Reflections in the Water
by insaneflautist
Summary: Chapter 13 up! This is a Minerva McGonagall fanfiction, centered around Harry's fifth year (written pre-OotP). With Voldemort gaining strength, Minerva and Albus find themselves recruited to the league of the Unspeakables.
1. Queen to Rook

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all associated characters, etc. belong to J. K. Rowling.

Minerva relaxed into the familiar armchair which squatted comfortably in front of the fire. She studied the chessboard on the table in front of her, her eyes sharp and searching. As she waited for the next move to be made, she glanced up at her opponent, Albus Dumbledore. His crystalline blue eyes were roving around the board, plotting his next maneuver. With anyone else, years of playing chess would have become a mindless task as the same mistakes were made, the same pieces swapped. With Albus, however, every move was a challenge; she continued to enjoy their weekly chess games, each filled with as much intensity and friendly competition as they had been thirty years ago.

His fingers hovered above the board for a moment, then grasped a white knight and set him two spaces up, one space across. The pieces had long since given up protesting at this treatment, though they much preferred to move themselves. With a triumphant gleam in his eye, he said, "Check."

She placed her teacup on the table beside the board and deftly moved her black king, not only blocking its capture but also returning the favor by exposing a rook. "Check."

The soft music drifting from the enchanted radio on the windowsill fitted Albus's personality perfectly. The humorous honks of one of the more playful Gershwin compositions made her lips curve into a small rare smile over the rim of the teacup as she savored the perfection of the night. A chess game, a warm fire, superb music, and her dear friend of many years. She looked out into the starlit night and to her surprise found herself filled with anger as her thoughts shifted to a young boy up in the dormitories not having such a perfect evening; a young boy wondering if he was a murderer. "Albus, do you think Harry will be all right?"

Albus shifted a rook, then looked up. "I don't know, Minerva. All I know is that Harry is a

strong boy, and if anyone can move on from a thing like this, he can."

"Life has forced him to be strong," she said stiffly. Then with sudden vigor, "And that father of Diggory's, giving him hell for something he didn't do!" She glared down at the board, then slammed her black queen down violently. "Check. Why does the man insist it's Harry's fault? If it weren't for him Harry might be fine, might could still be friends with Weasley and Granger without that worried look he gets every time he goes near them!"

Albus calmly moved his rook again. "Minerva, today was only the first day. He could turn out to be perfectly all right this year. In the meantime, just try to help him however you can and don't worry too much about him. I believe Molly has done enough of that for all of us." His lips hinted at a ghost of a smile as he remembered the woman's well-intended kindness.

She purposefully slid her bishop a few spaces to the left diagonal. "You're right. Of course." Then with a sigh, "I hope he isn't too upset."

Albus moved his knight. "He'll be fine, my dear Professor. Now, I do believe that's a checkmate for you, if I'm correct." He chuckled softly at her as she threw up her hands in mock exasperation.

"What can I say. I'm beat!" She managed a thin smile as he clasped his hands over his head in a mock show of victory. The clock in the corner suddenly tolled in its rich tones.

"My! Midnight, already! Best be retiring these faithful troops and get some sleep." Together they packed the chess pieces in their well-worn case and he set it on its shelf until the next game. Then he walked back over and looked into her eyes. "Minerva, promise me you won't worry yourself to death about the boy."

"Why would I do something like tha-"

"Minerva."

"All right, I promise."

"That's better. Now, off to your quarters, and no reading until three in the morning. You need sleep; you don't look well."

"Thank you."

"You know what I meant."

"That I look like I've been hit by the Knight Bus?"

"You are a prime example of stubbornness. I give up."

"Good; I'm much to tired to debate."

"Good night, Minerva, dear. See you tomorrow."

"Good night, Albus."


	2. Pawn to Knight

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and all related characters, etc. belong to J. K. Rowling.

As Albus finished polishing the scuffed leather case that held the chessboard, he couldn't help but think about Minerva. She wasn't typically what one would call an exceptionally happy person, but it was rare for her to anger as quickly as she had during their game that night. Besides, she had let him win. She knew The Chessman's Guide to 103 Tricks, Traps, and Otherwise Downright Dirty Moves to (attempt to) Guarantee a Capture (First Edition) by heart; he had given it to her as a Christmas present her first year teaching and she had taken its word as one might take commands from God. The McGonagalls had never let their opponents do anything without a fight, meaning she must have had a damned good reason for wanting to close the discussion. But why? He decided to watch her closely but say nothing. No reason to make her angry with him for prying into matters that were none of his business anyway.

As he set the leather case on the cluttered mantel of the fireplace, he set his thoughts about her aside too, though only temporarily. Urgent business to attend to. Letters from the Ministry and that bothersome Cornelius Fudge had been delivered in the midst of their chess game. He settled into his favorite putrid-orange desk chair and began to read through first one letter, then another. As his pale eyes skimmed down the creamy papers, his face grew grimmer and grimmer. New attacks, accompanied by more terrifying methods of killing. Unidentified poisons, useless beating of the subjects, and a chillingly complicated new curse that hadn't even been named.

He was so preoccupied with the horrific contents of the first letter he almost didn't notice the slim sky-blue envelope slipped into a stack of paperwork. But as he shifted a sheaf of papers, its shimmering corner caught his eye and he carefully extricated it from underneath the pile. "Ah..." This looked interesting. On the front, in ribbon-like writing that curled extravagantly, was his name: Albus Addaon Dumbledore. His brow furrowed with confusion and a bit of curiosity. No one had ever used his middle name Addaon, not even on the papers for the Order of Merlin and all the like. He wasn't sure his own mother had even remembered he possessed a middle name. "Curious..." He disemboweled the envelope.

As his eyes flickered over the silver embossed sheets, his eyebrows disappeared under his snowy hair and he had to read everything several times to make himself believe what they were saying. "Good heavens..." He sifted through the small packet once again, making sure he had properly understood.

"Good heavens," he repeated. "The Unspeakables..."

Minerva unpinned her hair from its thick bun and let it cascade to her waist. A hundred strokes with a brush and back into a braid it'll go, she thought. Such a comfortable routine it was, a relaxing ritual she had been performing ever since she was old enough to hold a brush. Tonight, though she allowed herself the extravagance of a moment to herself, her mind was not on what she was doing. Instead, she was still pondering over her poor display of skills in the chess game that night. Why in Hades did I let him beat me? she thought. Poor Papa would be rolling over in his grave if he knew his daughter had let someone one-up her in a chess match, especially the son of that no-good Amyntas Dumbledore. Still, the remorse she felt for losing was nothing compared to the anger for Harry and all the others that had suffered unjustly under the cruel reign of Lord Voldemort.

Also, to her surprise, she felt a sudden pang of self-pity. If only Father were still alive this wouldn't seem half as horrible, she thought...

"Snap out of it, Minerva. Papa would have said you should have dropped whining with bottles and diapers! Goodness gracious, a grown woman such as yourself lacking the self control of an infant." Disgusted and still muttering angrily at herself under her breath, she dropped her brush on the night table and slipped into bed. She let her head fall towards her pillow but found it obstructed by something rather crinkly and definitely not her pillow. "What?..." She reached under her head, disgruntled, and found a thin blue envelope with her name in curling gold letters on the cover. She let two silvery sheets of paper fall onto the covers, then set the envelope aside and began to read.

Much as Dumbledore's had, her eyes grew wider and wider as she read. "Surely I'm imagining this, too..." She pinched her arm experimentally, only to find she would have a bruise rising in the morning. "My God." She blinked hard. "The Unspeakables..."


	3. Rook to Pawn

***Disclaimer***   
The poor characters so horribly portrayed in this chapter as well as the rest of the story aren't   
mine. Also, I extend my sincere apologies to J. K. for misusing her property so terribly. :) 

***Author's Note***   
Thanks goes out to K-da-great, Alvera, Tea, Twinkling Tabby, and Starwriter for being kind enough   
to read and review. Sorry this took so long to get updated; complain to my teachers who gave me   
unbearable amounts of homework! Oh, and if any of ya'll know of any good Minerva fanfics, please   
tell me where to find them! Aithne is, according to my friend, pronounced something like   
EYE-thney, btw. Now I'll leave you alone and let you read. 

************ 

A timid ray of sunshine slid in the window and shattered the gentle dusky-grayness of early   
morning. As the minutes slipped by, the sliver of sunshine quivered, strengthened, then   
flourished beautifully into a bright orange sunrise, causing early risers to gasp with delight,   
late risers to roll over and cover their heads with their pillows, and Minerva McGonagall to   
sit up in bed, jolted awake suddenly, though not quite unpleasantly. For a moment, she simply   
sat, blinking and reorienting herself. However, as she recalled the blue envelope she had   
received only hours ago, she jumped from the bed with surprising agility, yanked her bathrobe   
over her white nightgown, pulled on her faded black slippers, and raced in a rather undignified   
manner to Albus' quarters with her hair still in its thick braid and the letter clasped in one   
hand. She arrived after a minute, breathless, at his office. 

She knocked, rushing in without waiting for a reply. Albus looked up at her from his desk,   
covered in what seemed to be more papers than usual, and smiled warmly. "Your arrival was   
anticipated. I think I know of only one topic that could cause you to burst in unannounced,   
Minerva, and therefore I presume the piece of paper in your hand is the cause of this." 

She glanced down at the innocent-looking envelope, a completely unsuspicious slip of blue   
entwined in her fingers, and once again marveled at the intensity of Dumbledore's powers of   
perception. 

"As usual, you presume correctly. How did you know? Did you get a letter? Who sent them?   
What is the real purpose of..." 

"I believe we should go for a stroll and sort this out. Breakfast isn't for two hours and   
classes for three; we should have ample time to discuss matters." 

He stood (Good Lord, he was already dressed as he might be in the middle of the afternoon; did he   
ever sleep?) and pocketed his wand from its place on the desk. Then, with a pat of   
acknowledgement to Fawkes, he led her out by the elbow, muttered a few concealing and protection   
charms on the door behind them, and they proceeded to journey in silence to the gardens. 

*** 

As they slowly paced around the broad expanses of the gardens, she found her curiosity mounting   
to an almost unbearable level. Seeing her unable to restrain some of her inquisitiveness, he   
smiled at the rare sparkle of excitement in her eyes. He began to speak softly, making sure no   
one was listening. 

"I, too, received a letter and will therefore attempt to answer all the questions I can with the   
shreds of truth I know. The Unspeakables, who actually are an organization of many names, are   
surrounded by a shroud of vagueness and uncertainty that enables them to work silently and   
stealthily but also hinders them as they are forced to deal with a crowd of misinformed or simply   
ignorant wizards and witches. The exact nature of their work is unsure, but I know they are   
somewhat along the lines of Aurors and those fighting against the league of Voldemort, except   
with a lot more secrecy. Among their leagues are but a hundred or so men and women, usually the   
sort you would expect to have been head boy or girl, top of their class, and the lot. From my   
understanding, they keep up a constant recruiting system. I, personally, have never meddled in   
that branch of the war; I preferred the Auror method, but I know it is a very prestigious honor   
to even be acknowledged that one exists by the organization. And it is most certainly a credit   
to ourselves that we have been asked, as the letter stated, to meet with representatives of that   
group." 

"What exactly, then, do they want with us?" 

He looked over at her pale face, made to look even more white and ghostly against the darkness of   
her jet black hair. Her large, green eyes were questioning and he could see his own face   
reflected in them as the sun peeked over the castle. Her expression was familiar to him; he   
remembered her as a student with that look on her face just as a problem was about to come clear. 

"Minerva, I believe we are being recruited." 

She stopped in the middle of the path. Her slender eyebrows arched upwards once again, this time   
in disbelief and amazement, and, for a moment, she stammered in a manner very much unlike her   
typical self as she tried to come up with words to express the astonishment and shock she felt.   
Finally, she focused on him. "You mean to say..." 

"Yes. They will be here at ten o'clock tonight in the western corner of the Forbidden Forest,   
just as they said in the letter. If you wish to find out more about this, as I most certainly   
do, meet me in my office and we shall go down together for safety's sake." She managed an   
affirmative answer to the preposition of her presence, and he nodded, smiling. "Now, breakfast   
is in ten minutes. Perhaps you will want to change into robes, or shall you be instructing in   
your nightgown today?" She looked down at herself, having obviously forgotten she wasn't exactly   
properly clad for the day. Giving him a shaky, dazed smile, she turned and left for her rooms,   
lost in thought. 

*** 

At exactly nine fifty five that evening, two cloaked figures, one in green and one in blue, left   
the castle and headed towards the darkest corner of the Forbidden Forest. They stayed close   
together and moved quickly, keeping their hands on their wands and preparing for any surprise   
attack that might come. "Albus, I don't see anyone." 

"They have a few minutes; I expect they'll arrive promptly," said the blue-cloaked person. The   
figure in the green cloak trembled visibly. "Are you cold?" 

"Just a bit." 

The figures reached the forest, the blue-cloaked person having a seat complacently at the foot   
of the tree while the green-cloaked individual scanned the forest with scrutiny. "They're not   
here." 

"They will be in-" he checked his watch "-exactly fifteen seconds." 

At that exact moment, there was a strange feeling to the air in front of them. It was as though   
the air had become a pool of water that a pebble had been dropped in, quivering and rippling.   
Suddenly, there was a feeling of great tension in the air and two figures fell from the   
shimmering. One landed neatly on its feet, but the other stumbled over its robes and fell to a   
heap on the ground, its hat falling over its face. "Damn Portals..." it muttered. She- for was   
now obvious the figure was female- managed to disentangle herself from tree roots and vines and   
stood, dusting off the seat of her robes. Then, she looked up at Albus and Minerva, both of   
which were staring back with interest. "Oh, hello! Aithne Bode, pleased to meet you, and this   
is Terrel Croaker." 

She was a strange-looking person. In no way could she be called pretty, though ugly didn't   
exactly fit either. She had large, light blue eyes peering from underneath graying bushy   
eyebrows and a mouth resembling a knife's slash across her face, with naturally red lips and   
white, slightly crooked teeth. An unruly mass of graying hair that had probably once been black   
was pulled back, though strands still managed to escape and cloud around her face. She had a   
very pointed nose that, at current, had a large smear of dirt on it from her ungraceful landing   
made even more obvious by her pale complexion. Also, she was fairly short, the top of her head   
only coming to McGonagall's chin, and thin to a point of almost looking unhealthy. Minerva's   
first impression was that of someone who had been locked away from people for a long time in   
complete darkness. 

After tearing her eyes away from this first personage, she studied the second. This was a   
middle-aged man who would have probably looked more comfortable in a business suit than in a   
robe and cloak. He had neatly combed hair, a precisely trimmed mustache, and a short,   
well-groomed beard. From the expression on his face, he was barely able to tolerate this active,   
disorganized person he had been partnered with and in no way was enjoying this outing. She was   
distinctively reminded of Percy Weasley, for some strange reason. 

Suddenly, she realized she was staring most rudely. She blushed crimson; fortunately, it was   
dark enough that it wouldn't be noticeable. She lifted her hood from her head, revealing a   
face that looked like a white orb in the silvery moonlight, and saw Albus do the same next to   
her. Not knowing where to begin, she was most thankful when the woman- Aithne?- spoke first. 

"You would be Minerva, I take it?" 

"Yes." 

The man spoke. "And you, I assume, are Albus Dumbledore?" His voice was very clipped and   
precise, giving the air of one too busy to put up with any nonsense. 

"That would be I." 

Noticing Minerva's worried expression, Aithne smiled, revealing deep creases around her eyes.   
"We probably should explain ourselves," she said to Croaker. "Where to begin?..." 

"At the beginning, Aithne. You know the drill." Croaker's voice was impatient. 

"Well, yes. Anyway, we are Unspeakables. We were wondering.... Oh, I guess I should explain   
what the Unspeakables, shouldn't I..." 

"Aithne...." Croaker's tone was warning. 

"Alright, Terrel! I'm getting there!" She turned back to Minerva and Albus, both of whom wore   
perplexed expressions in varying degrees of intensity. "Sorry, loves, I forgot. Unspeakables   
are similar to Aurors except basically no one knows exactly what we do. We are allowed to use   
several spells unknown to Aurors and we don't face the restrictions they do. We also are   
responsible for some of the research and construction of new spells, many you know... Stupefy's   
the most popular one..." 

At a cross clearing of the throat from Croaker, she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I suppose I'm   
rambling a bit, aren't I. Must forgive me in my old age... But that's the condensed definition   
of what we are, paraphrased a bit. The reason old crabby and I are here-" a particularly loud   
harrumph sounded from behind her and she smiled "- is because you have shown traits that would be   
beneficial to our leagues. You have been invited to join us." She fumbled in one of the many   
pockets on her robes, withdrew a crumpled piece of paper, smoothed it out slightly, placed silver-   
rimmed glasses on her nose, and proceeded to read with mock formality. "On Tuesday, September   
second in the year of our Lord Nineteen and Ninety-Five, the Chief of Council of the   
Unspeakables, Department of Mysteries, has formally extended an invitation to the individuals by   
the names of Albus Addaon Dumbledore and Minerva Adele McGonagall to become members of the   
Unspeakables, after achieving sufficient success on the M. O. U. S. E. exams (Mightily Outrageous   
and Useless Standardized Examinations). Should the above persons choose to take the   
examinations, they will be permitted to attend all events and become participating members." She   
removed the glasses and dropped the card into her pocket. "What a mouthful." 

Croaker was becoming more and more impatient. 

Taking little notice, Aithne continued in a more conspiratorial tone. "Croaker'll try to get you   
to tell him right now, but technically you have twenty four hours to make up your mind and don't   
let him tell you otherwis-" 

_"Aithne."_

"Yes, Terrel?" she said charmingly. 

"Shut up." 

"Yes, Terrel." She rolled her eyes and restrained a chuckle. 

"Now," continued the triumphant Croaker, "we need a decision. If you cannot present one at this   
time, you may, as my colleague mentioned-" he threw Aithne a murderous look "- have one day.   
Exactly," he added with emphasis. 

Minerva and Albus, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, looked at each other. She   
knew his thoughtful expression was mirrored by her own face, except hers was probably more   
doubtful. Finally, he spoke for both of them, something she was extremely thankful for. "If we   
may take the twenty-four hours, I am sure it would be much preferred by both of us." Terrel   
rolled his eyes. Aithne nodded approvingly. 

"However, before you are permitted to go, you must know one thing," Croaker said pompously.   
"You may not speak of anything, and I repeat _anything_, you have been informed of tonight.   
Even between yourselves you may not discuss your decision to make sure your choice is yours alone   
as well as for the fear of being overheard. Should we find that you choose not to heed this   
warning, you will be exterminated and a team of trained Obliviators will have to be summoned for   
those who have been unfortunate enough to be the recipient of your information. Am I   
understood?" 

"Perfectly," Dumbledore replied, obviously amused at the air of self-importance this man   
fancied himself having. 

"Miss McGonagall?" 

She bristled at the slightly degrading title, but forced herself to speak with as much courtesy   
as she could muster. "Yes, Mr. Croaker, I comprehend your words and will follow them to the   
greatest extent of my ability." 

Croaker nodded stiffly. "Well, then, we must be off. Aithne? Ready?" 

"But of course!" She hastily stuffed the jam pastry she had conjured and had been nibbling on   
into yet another deep pocket of her robes, then turned. As Croaker prepared a Portal back to   
wherever they had come from, Aithne whispered to McGonagall, whose expression displayed the fact   
that she was obviously having second thoughts about joining, "Don't fret, love, it's not as bad   
as it sounds. Most of us are much nicer than Croaky, there..." 

"Come, Aithne! The Portal is closing," called the nasal voice of Terrel. 

"Yes, Terrel, dear." With a final smile and slight wave, she stepped into the rippling air   
along with Croaker, leaving Albus and Minerva looking at each other, completely alone in a silent   
forest. 

She muttered, "What the bloody hell have we gotten ourselves into?" 

"I don't know, Minerva, I just don't know."   



	4. Check to White

***Disclaimer***   
Unfortunately for J. K., I decided to play with her characters and allow them to make complete   
fools of themselves. How embarrassing for her to see them mistreated such!!!!! Anyway, they're   
not mine and I'm not getting even a penny of her millions from this escapade. 

***Author's Note***   
Well, whaddya know! Two chapters in one day! I'm quite proud of myself, to tell the truth. Not   
that I'll get this updated tonight, but still I made myself write it while I was on a roll and   
that's what counts. Thanks to all the aforementioned lovely reviewers and to any wonderful souls   
who review before this chapter is published. Btw, any help or suggestions you can make (besides   
criticizing my html coding abilities, I already know I'm a total dunce at that) will be   
gratefully accepted. Thanks! -insaneflautist 

************ 

She awoke the next morning thinking it had all been a dream. It wasn't until she saw the   
envelope lying on her dresser and her cloak, damp from the dewy grass, that she remembered the   
strange events that had occurred the night before and Aithne and Terrel. "What to do...." she   
whispered to herself. Today she had not been awakened by sunshine, as she had been yesterday,   
and the damp, dreariness of the day made the burdening decision seem even weightier than ever.   
Then, with all the willpower she had, she forced thoughts of last night to the back of her mind   
for the moment as she prepared herself for classes that day and headed down to breakfast. 

She passed more early-risers than usual in the corridor, several with worried expressions.   
Spotting Seamus Finnegan in the crowd, a fifth year and a Gryffindor whom she knew fairly well,   
she stopped him. 

"Seamus, did something happen? There is something strange about everyone this morning..." 

"Did you not hear, Professor? There was another attack by-" he swallowed hard "-You-Know-Who.   
They're saying lots of the Muggle-born students lost parents and siblings. Worst attack in   
years, they say... Fifth one in the last two months..." 

The reaction his words had on his Professor scared Seamus slightly. Her face went ghostly white   
and he had never seen her lips go so thin. "Are you alright, Professor?" he asked hesitantly. 

"Yes, thank you, Seamus. You may go now." She turned and continued towards the Great Hall,   
walking very quickly with her head bowed slightly. Seamus bit his lip, then continued on his   
way as well. 

*** 

Another attack... Worse than ever, Seamus had said. Just like the one there had been by   
Grindlewald when she was in school. And, oh, how horrible it would be for those who had lost   
their parents... She knew. 

*** 

As she picked at the scrambled eggs on her golden plate, she realized she had never felt less   
hungry in her life. The stench of the words You-Know-Who uttered from Seamus' lips had   
completely depleted any appetite she might have had. The Unspeakables were completely forgotten.   
Any minute, the owls would come. Any minute. 

As soon as this thought crossed her mind, all the eyes in the room rose to the heavens as if   
drawn by a greater force, watching and listening as the flapping of wings grew louder and   
louder. When the owls burst into the Great Hall, she had a feeling she had experienced only   
once before: a feeling of both relief and greater horror at the same time. And behind the usual   
post, there were eleven doves of solid white, each carrying a golden envelope. 

Oh, God help those who received one of those innocent-looking golden envelopes. 

The eleven doves circled the room once and, for once, there was complete silence in the Great   
Hall as every eye followed their flight, every ear caught the almost imperceptible stirring of   
the air as their feathered wings beat smoothly. Then, when they had completed the lap around   
the massive room, the snowy-white birds descended silently into the huddle of students, each one   
willing the doves to choose someone else, to go to another table. She counted during the   
descent: six to the Gryffindors, two to Ravenclaw, two to Hufflepuff, and one to the staff   
table. None to Slytherin. Of course. 

She was not worried about the one coming to the staff table; it would not be her. She had no   
one left to die, no one left to weep for. She did feel sorry, however, when the dove drifted   
into the hands of Rhiannon Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. She did not know Rhiannon well; she   
was rather a hermit, rarely choosing to venture down from the tower in which she worked and   
lived. Minerva was not surprised when she took the letter without opening it and left silently,   
almost serenely. That seemed to be her nature. She would mourn in silence as many had before   
her. Minerva knew. 

As soon as she had followed the dove's descent to the staff table, her eyes snapped back to the   
body of students sitting before her. Almost all of the students who had received a letter had   
burst into tears, one into complete hysterics, causing quite a distraction as friends and   
teachers rushed to comfort those in need. 

However, only she saw the one girl from the Gryffindor table slip out, clutching the golden   
envelope in her fist. Even her fellow Gryffindors, distracted by others who were grieving more   
noisily, took little notice. Minerva felt her heart sink to her toes as she recognized the   
figure leaving the room. 

She looked at Albus for permission to leave and, when he nodded, exited in the same direction   
as the student had. She knew instinctively where she would find the girl; Minerva herself had   
found solace and comfort in the same place years before. 

The Owlery. 

She pushed open the great wooden door quietly, easing it shut again so the hinges would make no   
noise to disturb both the jewel-eyed owls and the girl. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to   
adjust to the dark, then began seeking out the figure. It wasn't difficult to see the girl   
huddled in a corner, with her knees pulled up to her chest and her face hidden. Her shoulders,   
heaving ever so slightly with every silent sob, were the only sign of movement. 

Taking a deep breath and praying that she could help instead of hurt, Minerva stepped over to   
the corner where the girl was and sat down beside her. She sat silently for a minute, trying to   
decide what to say and do. Then, she began to speak very softly, almost in a whisper. 

"Hermione, dear, are you alright?" 

The girl tried to answer, but all that she could do was weep helplessly. Not knowing what to   
do, McGonagall hesitated. During her fourth year, people had told her that it was alright and   
that everything would be okay, but she knew there was no truth to those statements. All they   
could ever be were empty words, which were surely the last things Hermione wanted to hear at the   
moment. So, instead, she said nothing and just hugged her rather awkwardly. 

She sat there with Hermione for a long time in the semi-darkness. Surely breakfast was over by   
now, but that didn't matter. For probably an hour, they sat, Hermione sobbing harder than she   
ever had in her life onto McGonagall's shoulder. Finally, when Hermione's tears had slowed,   
Minerva pulled away to reach into her pocket. She found the clean spare handkerchief she always   
carried and never used, the one her mother had so carefully embroidered with the curling letters   
M. A. M., Minerva Adele McGonagall, and pressed it into Hermione's hand. 

"Stay here for as long as you like; I'm sure no one will see a problem with it," she said   
quietly. She patted Hermione's back once more, then left silently. 

When she stepped into the dreary day, the front of her cloak was stained with traces of tears.   
She wasn't sure if they were Hermione's or her own. 

A.N. Please don't kill me, I promise things will get better after this thoroughly depressing   
chapter. I won't do it again, for a little while, anyway. :) 


	5. Rallying the Troops

***Disclaimer***   
Poor J. K. Once again I deface her characters by using them for my own (somewhat evil) purposes.   
My apologies! 

***Author's Note***   
Oh, thank you, kind reviewers! I would give names of the wonderful souls, but my computer's   
being stupid and won't let me on the internet right now to get their pennames again. Anyway,   
ya'll are great. Sorry this chapter is kind of yucky, I'm having some weird form of writer's   
block that attacks me with nonsensical plotlines and bad grammer. :) FYI, I have always pictured   
McGonagall as described in the first book: much younger than what J. K. later said she was.   
Like, fortyish or maybe fifties. That could be kinda important to my plotline later on (yes, I   
promise there is one!). Thanks again! 

*********** 

From her lonely tower, Rhiannon Sinistra stared out the window into the gray day, holding the   
unopened envelope in one pale hand. She knew the contents without even bothering to open it;   
the only thing that could possibly be inside was the notification of the death of her father,   
the only living family member of close enough relation to deserve a letter. She didn't weep for   
him, not yet, but simply sat silently watching the actions of the people below as she did so   
often. 

A couple of students walked aimlessly around the grounds, one of them blowing their nose on a   
handkerchief. The gamekeeper was hurrying towards the castle from his small hut, his beard   
dripping with tears as he positively howled with sobs for those who had lost loved ones. Some   
first years, who probably didn't understand exactly what had taken place and were trying to   
escape the dismal student body, were playing a listless game of catch on broomsticks. And the   
tall, dark-haired witch who taught Transfiguration-- McGonagall?-- was going into the Owlery,   
probably looking for the student who had run in there a minute or two ago. 

How gray the world was today, she observed. The gray clouds rolled across the sky, depositing   
cold drops of rain on the muddy ground. Even the way she felt was gray; she didn't feel angry   
enough or sad enough to demand red or black, nor did she feel cheerful enough for yellow or   
white. She simply felt.... nothing. Gray was a color of nothingness. 

However, she thought reflectively, she knew that to make gray one had to mix black and white.   
There was definitely black in the mix today; the evil of the world was black and today had held   
much evil. But, if the day was gray, didn't there have to be white, too? She paused in her   
observation of the ant-sized figures moving below and pondered this. What was the white?   
Something good must be happening, something of which she did not know. 

_Alone, we are but a single, fragile leaf, helplessly carried by great gusts of a wind that blows   
only evil. However, a tree can withstand even the strongest gales._

Where did that come from? It had simply drifted across her mind as a flower blossom might glide   
across a pond; she had a distinct feeling of having heard it somewhere before. Abruptly, she   
stood, dragging herself from her thoughts. She needed to paint. 

*** 

Once again, the two cloaked figures were walking across the Hogwarts lawn, moving towards the   
western corner of the Forbidden Forest. However, tonight they moved in almost complete silence   
with the exception of the blue-cloaked figure occasionally making a stab at a conversation,   
obviously trying to raise the dampened spirits of the woman garbed in a green cloak. After a   
few minutes, even the lighthearted chitchat of the blue-cloaked man ceased and they traveled   
noiselessly. Upon reaching the edge of the forest, however, the blue-cloaked man caught the   
woman's elbow and paused momentarily. 

"Minerva, I know today has brought on great pain. Just remember that, although you must never   
forget the past, you must not let it become a burden that keeps you from feeling joy. I--" He   
looked as though he wanted to say something more, but apparently thought better of it and   
stopped suddenly. 

For a moment, her eyes welled with tears that glistened like diamonds in the moonlight, but her   
dignity kept them from overflowing. Instead of letting him see her vulnerability, she turned   
abruptly and headed into the forest without waiting for him. He stood for a moment, watching her   
walk into the darkness, then followed slowly. 

By the time he reached the spot where she was standing, she had regained her composure somewhat   
and was impatiently checking her watch. "They're late, again." 

"Only by a moment, they'll be here." 

Before the last word had left his lips, the now-familiar shimmering of the air that came with   
the strange kind of travel used by the Unspeakables began, soon allowing two large forms to fall   
from the rippling. The Forest immediately exploded with furious yelling. 

_"Aithne, how many times do I have to tell you..."_

"Now, Terrel dear, we have guests and...." 

_"I don't care if we have guests, I have told you once and for all that if you get one more   
speck of that jelly from those infernal pastries of yours on my robes again..."_

Even the dispirited Minerva had to smile slightly at the scene that appeared before them.   
Aithne, struggling to conceal great guffaws of laughter, was holding the remains of a jelly   
pastry similar to the one she had been consuming the previous evening. Terrel, in sky-blue   
robes that were now adorned with a very large, conspicuous smear of dark jelly down the front,   
was obviously not finding the situation quite as amusing, having had his dignity severely bruised   
by the incident. 

"Pay no mind to him, loves, he's just a tad grouchy today," Aithne stage-whispered to them,   
resisting the overwhelming urge to laugh heartily at the fuming Terrel. "Anyway, I think it's   
best I stay out of his way until he calms down a bit." She examined the offending pastry, then   
popped it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Not bad." 

Albus, though chuckling softly to himself, moved towards Terrel and began trying a number of   
cleansing spells, which had little effect on the dark smudge. Aithne, after watching their   
antics for a moment, turned back to Minerva. 

"So, dear, what have you decided?" she asked softly, her eyes still twinkling with merriment and   
fun. 

"Yes, without a doubt." Minerva's voice had a slight hollowness that most people wouldn't have   
noticed, but Aithne's well-trained ears picked it up immediately. She glanced at Minerva's face   
with a keen, practiced eye, experienced at detecting the slightest emotion, but found a strange   
combination. Assurance, yes, and determination, and... was it sadness? She couldn't tell in the   
half-darkness. 

"Wonderful," she continued, being careful not to let her voice convey her curiosity. "Glad to   
have you on the team!" Minerva started to reply, but stopped short as Albus and Terrel, now   
wearing jelly-free robes, rejoined them. 

"Thank you, Albus, for so kindly repairing the damages inflicted by my colleague." Terrel spoke   
pointedly, his words accompanied by an accusing look. 

Aithne rolled her eyes slightly, then said with forced sweetness, "I apologize, and I promise I   
won't bring any more jelly doughnuts in the Portal, Terrel." 

"Thank the Lord!" muttered Terrel, not seeing Aithne crossing her fingers behind her back. She   
winked slyly at Minerva, who had noticed the finger-crossing, then attempted to assume a more   
serious manner. 

"I guess we should discuss the reason for our arrival. I have heard Minerva's answer, Mr.   
Croaker, and now it is time for Albus'." Everyone looked towards Dumbledore. 

Albus replied, without hesitation, "I am greatly honored to accept your offer." 

"We are therefore pleased to induct both of you," Aithne said with a brilliant smile. "Of   
course," she added, a little more solemnly, "there are still some small barriers to overcome.   
You'll both have to take M.O.U.S.E. tests, which are rather difficult. They basically cover   
everything you'd find on the standard O.W.L. test, plus the N.E.W.T. exams. The part that really   
makes them difficult, however, is the fact that they extensively cover the pure form of White   
Magic, which is not studied much nowadays. You'll also have to have a good deal of knowledge   
about Dark Arts as well as how to defend yourself against them, both practically and in theory.   
If I were you, I'd make sure I knew plenty about the practical bit; can be quite unpleasant if   
you forget during the examination...." She winced, obviously thinking of a memorable personal   
experience. 

"Aithne, stick to the necessary information," Croaker said exasperatedly. 

"Yes, dear, I'm trying. Anyway, that's about it. The written exam will be administered a week   
from today and you will be summoned to the Unspeakables Headquarters. If you do well enough on   
the test, you will be given a practical examination the next day. You will be subjected the   
typical curses to test blocking abilities as well as given timed analysis experiments in which   
you have to determine the composition of various Potions. Basic stuff, you'll have no trouble   
there. Here-" She rummaged around in a pocket of her robes and presented them with a grubby   
packet of paper, a sticky spot residing on one corner. "Sorry it's a little messy, must have   
been the pocket with the sweets..." 

The papers turned out to be a list of topics covered on the exams. There were five pages   
clipped together and, as Albus flipped through them, his eyebrows gradually arched until they   
were completely hidden by his snowy hair. "Quite a.... variety of topics," he commented,   
finally. "History of the faerie civilizations, Greek and Roman mythology, Dark Arts spells,   
White Magic rudiments and theories, Astronomy, Divination..." He shook his head in disbelief.   
"And that was just the first line of type!" 

Minerva could already feel one of her stress-triggered headaches coming on. 

"It's not really too bad. If a bumbling idiot like myself can pass it, you two will surely have   
no problem at all," Aithne joked lightheartedly. Croaker vigorously nodded his agreement to   
the first part of this statement, which resulted in him being the recipient of a very nasty look   
from Aithne. He stopped nodding immediately and resumed his usual pompous air. 

"Anyway, we'll come to get you in a week and take you to the headquarters, where the test will   
be given. Seven days should be ample time to prepare yourselves for the exams," Croaker said.   
"Now, we should be going. Hurry up, Aithne." He prepared a Portal and stepped through. 

"Coming, love." She hid the scone she had been in the process of extricating from her pocket   
and waved to Albus and Minerva, then stepped into the shimmering Portal and left as suddenly as   
she had appeared. 

"Well, if I don't die during the theoretical part, I most certainly will during the practical   
bit. I'm leaving you my chess set," Minerva said with a half-smile. Albus chuckled, and they   
walked side-by-side back to the castle.   



	6. Studying the Board

  
***Disclaimer***   
You know the routine: it's not mine - never has been- never will be! *sob* 

***Author's Note***   
This is going to be another ho-hum chapter. Don't worry, the pace will definitely start to pick   
up when the M.O.U.S.E. exams roll around.... (next chapter, I hope). This scene jumps around   
a lot; it's kind of like the reader is seeing snatches of what happens in Minerva's mind. And   
there is a point to Sinistra's appearance in the middle, I promise. A special thanks to Caitlin   
(kawaiikitty), animegirl-mika, msc17, MK, im so innocent, and Pailay for reviewing my story, as   
well as to all of you listed in the Author's Note from the third chapter. Ya'll are great! 

P.S. To Pailay: Nope, no Harry/Hermione here. I'll try to write in a hint of Harry/Ginny just   
for you later on. *wink* 

P.S. To Starwriter and im so innocent: Maybe. Just wait and find out. *laughs evilly* Hmmmm.   
That "I...." from Albus.... really makes you wonder what he was going to say, doesn't it? But   
I'm not saying promising for sure yet, mind you. :D 

*************************************** 

She could feel her eyes growing heavier and heavier as she tried futilely to focus on the words   
of the book. She wanted more than anything just to curl up and go to sleep, putting off the   
last six chapters of the thick volume until morning. After all, she had barely slept for the   
past three days, only staying awake from having swallowed large quantities of Altavegli potion.   
"But you can't stop now, Minerva," she muttered to herself. "Only four more days until the   
exams.... If you put this off until morning, that's three hours you've lost of studying." And   
bearing that thought in mind, she yawned, adjusted her glasses, and sank back into the ancient   
world brought to life on the yellowed pages. 

*** 

She hadn't even bothered looking in the mirror that morning, knowing she would find dark circles   
beneath bleary eyes. It was something that, as a student, she had grown accustomed to after   
many nights of late studying. Instead, she had just pulled on the first robes her fingers   
touched, re-pinned her hair, and headed to breakfast, two small books in one pocket and one in   
her hand that she skimmed through as she walked. 

She realized she would have to read almost an impossible amount of material each day if she   
wanted to get anywhere before the scheduled exam date. Fortunately, she knew most of the topics   
fairly well--except the white magic-- so the majority of the information was review. All except   
for that brainless Divination. It was for this reason that, though she did eat a few bites of   
the delicious bacon, she remained thoroughly absorbed in a book throughout breakfast. Of   
course, to avoid the curious stares that would undoubtedly result from seeing her reading a   
(ugh) Divination book, she had to keep it concealed in her lap throughout the duration of the   
meal, though this made turning pages a bit of a bother. However, her determination to pass this   
test prevailed over her disbelief and dislike for Divination in this instance. 

In fact, the only time she truly stopped reading the whole day was to teach classes, which had   
finally resumed as usual after the horrible tragedy. Even during these, she forced herself to   
recite the names of the Elfin kings and the twelve uses of Bubotuber pus under her breath as she   
patrolled the aisles, watching third-year students bungle even the simplest transfigurations. 

By the end of the day, after several distractions resulting in the depletion of her free time in   
which to study, she was horrified to find she still had nine books left to meet her goal for the   
day. So, instead of going to the Great Hall for dinner, she hurried instead to her office to   
read, the book in her pocket slapping against her leg as she walked. 

She had just sat down and pulled the book from her pocket to read when she saw a small, hastily   
wrapped package lying on the corner of the desk. Thinking that it might be instructions from   
Aithne and Terrel, she picked it up, examined it, and removed the string from around the brown   
paper. Instead, her clean, freshly laundered handkerchief that she had loaned Hermione in the   
Owlery fell into her lap, along with a folded square of paper. She picked up the note and read,   
in neat, round handwriting: 

_Thank you, Professor.   
~H.G._

*** 

Taking a deep breath, Minerva closed her eyes and tried to concentrate hard. Concentrate.   
Focus. Imagine the pillows rising from the floor. Tentatively, she opened one eye. There were   
four pillows suspended in midair at eye level. However, one was drifting dangerously towards   
the wall. One was spinning around as the Earth does on its axis. But the other two were   
perfect.... well, almost. 

The large wall clock chimed its usual notes, then struck the hour: two in the morning. Sighing,   
she let the pillows flop lifelessly onto the floor. I may never learn to do this white magic   
properly, she thought exasperatedly. Then, a tiny smile floated to her lips. "But if I do,   
those Weasley twins had better think twice before pulling pranks in my class!" 

*** 

Sinistra stepped back and squinted critically at her almost-finished painting. "The nose isn't   
right," she whispered to herself decidedly, dabbing a spot of paint onto the canvas. For a few   
minutes, she worked carefully, using small, short brush strokes. Once this task was completed,   
she moved away again and scrutinized first the nose, then the entire portrait. "Much better,"   
she murmured to herself. Then, finding her wand among the small pile of paintbrushes, she began   
to softly recite the words to make the picture come alive. This one didn't take many rounds of   
chants; almost immediately the subject blinked, yawned, and began studying its surroundings.   
Satisfied, Rhiannon carefully picked up the picture and carried it out to hang in the hall   
alongside the many others she had painted. 

*** 

This time she could do it. She would do it. Closing her eyes again and attempting to   
concentrate her powers on the fluffy, innocent-looking pillows piled in a heap in the center of   
the room, she willed them to rise. As she happily watched the pillows drift obediently into the   
air, she allowed herself to put the exams out of her mind, though only temporarily, of course.   
For a minute, she had a bit of fun, trying to make the pillows move higher and to test exactly   
how large her range was with this wandless magic. 

Then, with a sigh, she turned back to the thick, musty book that had come from the Restricted   
Section. Back to work, she thought with a yawn. Realizing it had been a long time since she   
had last taken her anti-drowsiness remedy, she located the tube of prepared Altavegli potion and   
downed it, shuddering slightly at its foul taste. As she continued to skim the White Magic   
book, she felt a surge of energy fill her body and she smiled grimly. Only one more night to   
study after this. 

*** 

With a tired sigh, she strode briskly to the dungeons. Finally, classes had ended for the day   
and she was free to get to work. She had been studying endlessly for a week and tomorrow was   
when everything she had done either paid off or became useless: tomorrow, the test would be   
held. Tests. More than one, she reminded herself. That was why she was seeking out Severus.   
For once, she was going to attempt to summon every bit of patience she had been given and put up   
with the man. After all, she chided herself, he is very knowledgeable and he can help you   
tremendously on the Potion analysis part if you'll only swallow some of that horrid Gryffindor   
pride and give him a chance. 

Finally, she arrived at the dungeons and found him ferociously grading essays, marking each   
with derogatory comments written in red and numerous point deductions, all with a smirk as he   
muttered aloud some of the most outrageous mistakes. All except for the Slytherins', she noted   
dryly as he gave Malfoy an almost-perfect score. She drew in a deep, calming breath and said,   
"Severus, I need to ask you a favor." 

He looked up at her with his cold, black eyes that reminded her of coal and spoke in a voice   
that matched them perfectly. "So the queen has at last stepped down from her pedestal and   
descended into my lowly quarters. And she seeks assistance from me, a lowly pawn of her court?"   
The last bit was said coldly, mockingly. 

She gritted her teeth and willed herself to be patient. Think of what he's been through, she   
reminded herself, her eyes flickering quickly to his left forearm before darting back to his   
face. 

"Severus, I do not mean to intrude. However, for reasons of my own, I must relearn how to   
properly analyze complex potions before a specific date." Knowing that Voldemort could extract   
information from even the most self-controlled subject, she purposely kept her reasons as vague   
as possible. 

"And you are telling me this because....?" 

"I am asking your assistance." 

He's going to make me grovel at his bloody feet, she realized. I'll have to eat every bloody   
word I said after the last Quidditch match. Why couldn't I have just keep my mouth shut, even   
though the man thoroughly deserved everything I said to him? Well, maybe except that last   
little dig about their pitiful excuse for a Keeper... 

He simply glared at her for a moment, just glared at her Gryffindor cloak clasp and the simple   
golden ring she wore with the house emblem engraved on its shiny surface. Then, a strange   
expression crossed his face, one she did not recognize. What's he thinking of, she wondered.   
What drifted across his mind just now? 

But then it did not matter, for the look was gone as he said in his cold, impersonal voice, "Go   
to the storeroom, you'll find an extra cauldron and a small black book titled 'Quiknotes:   
Analyzing Simple Brews, Grade 1.'" He pushed aside the stack of papers that he had been   
correcting so harshly and stood. "Well, are you going or not?" 

She turned on her heel and entered the storerooms. If this keeps up, I won't have any teeth   
left to grit, she thought, attempting to conceal her frustration. 

She returned with the cauldron and the dusty textbook, finding Snape holding a large jar of....   
something. She wasn't quite sure what it was, only that it looked a vivid green and very   
unpleasant. Snape smirked nastily. 

"Now, we'll start with a very easy one..." 

She was in for a long night. 

*** 

Wearily, she ascended the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Tonight, she thought. Tonight,   
tonight, tonight. The word seemed to be spoken by the rhythmic click of her shoes, by the   
slight swish of her cloak as it billowed behind her, by the wailing of the wind as it rammed   
against the castle with unleashed fury. 

Tonight. 

She knocked softly on the oaken door, which opened almost immediately. Albus had obviously been   
waiting for her arrival. How does he manage to look so... normal? she wondered as he stepped   
outside and secured the door behind him. She knew he had been spending late nights in the   
library as well; they had scared each other silly when they backed into one another in the   
darkness while looking for books at one o'clock in the morning a few days ago. And now, while   
she had increasingly darkening circles below her eyes, he looked almost as chipper and energetic   
as always. 

She soon forgot about her appearance as Albus turned to her and smiled. 

"Ready to go?" he asked. 

She responded with a slightly over-exaggerated, worried expression, causing him to smile. They   
spoke no more as they left the Great Hall and crossed the silent grounds. She was much too busy   
trying to remember all the things she had memorized and he was apparently absorbed in thoughts   
of his own. 

When they arrived at the usual corner, Aithne and Terrel were waiting for them, for once.   
Terrel was checking his watch, and looked relieved when the crackle of dead leaves under their   
feet announced their arrival. Instead of Aithne's usual overly enthusiastic greeting, she   
simply smiled broadly and said, "Follow me." Using her wand, she created a Portal and stepped   
through it, followed by Terrel. 

Albus glanced at Minerva. "After you, my dear," he said with a small smile. She took a deep   
breath and stepped into the shimmering air. Instantly, she felt as though she had touched a   
Portkey. The spinning and whirling grew to an almost unbearable frequency. Then, it stopped   
completely. A moment later, she landed with a painful thump on a marble floor. Looking around,   
she knew there was only one place she could be. 

The Headquarters of the Unspeakables. 

***AN***   
Just a tiny cliffhanger, there. *grins* Altavegli is a made up word by yours truly derived from   
Italian. Svegli means wide awake and Altamente means highly. Meaning basically, the user would   
be on a super caffeine high until the potion wore off. :) Fun, fun!   



	7. Strategies

***Disclaimer**   
Aithne, Terrel, Minerva, Albus, Rhiannon, and anyone else who might manage to wander into this chapter are   
not property of mine. They belong to J. K. Rowling, the Harry Potter goddess. 

***Author's Note***   
A great big thank you to my wonderful reviewers, including K-da-great, Crydwyn, Pailay, and a few others   
that have snuck in since I last checked the reviews (about a month ago!). Sorry it's been so long; I've   
had a lot of band auditions and stuff keeping me exceedingly busy. I promise I haven't forgotten my fanfic!   
In this chapter, you will find more Rhiannon (and will get a teeny bit closer to finding out exactly why she   
is in this story at all!!), get to see Aithne and Terrel, and hear the first mention of Draco Malfoy. Have   
fun! 

************* 

Rhiannon sighed in relief as the last of the pupils left the classroom. A few scattered quills and blank   
rolls of parchment remained, lying abandoned next to telescopes that were in various states of disrepair,   
so she picked them up and laid them in a jumbled heap on her desk. Although she would have done anything   
to keep her job here, where she could teach those who wanted to learn, she was growing dreadfully tired of   
Draco Malfoy and his two overgrown sidekicks who sat in a cluster of three at the back of the room.   
Although Draco was a smart boy, intelligent enough, he preferred to use his mind to devise plans to test   
her patience instead of learning to read and understand the stars. Today worried her more than usual;   
there had been no visible pranks, though Malfoy had still worn his usual smirk and had laughed maliciously   
before leaving the classroom at the end of the lesson. How could he not be fascinated with the lights of   
the sky that appeared at the arrival of dusk? How could he not wonder or want to know about their signs,   
their meanings, to study their movements and patterns across the night sky? 

As a child, she had sat beside her father on the roof of their apartment building. He had pointed to   
asteroids, planets, and the constellations themselves, and she had written everything in a tiny blue   
notebook in tiny, childish writing with some of the letters backwards or blurred to an almost unreadable   
state from the nights in the rain. Sometimes he would write an additional note when she forgot something   
important in his own tiny square print. She still had the notebook, tucked away safely in the very bottom   
drawer of her teacher's desk. 

Now, she opened the drawer and began to feel around for it without looking. In the past week, she had   
lifted it from its hiding spot often, enjoying the feel of its weight in her hand. It reminded her of   
her father and of the nights on the roof of their tiny flat in Aberfeldy, the nights when the air was   
warm and the breeze carried the soft scent of irises from the gardens next door where Mrs. Billey, the   
shrewd owner of the apartment complex, lived. She had been an avid gardener and could be found at almost   
any hour of the day talking kindly to her roses and pansies and adding supplements to the soil. Of   
course, if any tenant had interrupted her, they would have been inclined to say she should have been   
growing snapdragons instead. Rhiannon smiled as she remembered her father saying on multiple occasions   
that if Mrs. Billey was as mean to her flowers as she was to her tenants, they would have all withered away. 

Suddenly, the smile froze on her face as her fingertips found only the yellowed tissue paper of the box   
in which her notebook was kept. Frantically, she pawed through the drawer again, then looked under her   
desk and under a stack of papers. She looked in the pile of quills and under every desk and around all   
of the telescopes. Her search was fruitless. Her notebook was nowhere to be found. 

Suddenly, as she absently picked up a stray quill she had missed from underneath a particular desk at   
the back of the classroom, she knew where her book was. 

*** 

Professor Sprout was just leaving the greenhouse where she had finished repotting a new arrival of moondrop   
plants, a delicate species that only ventured above ground near midnight. She locked the door, hung the   
key on a string around her neck, and was almost ready to go on a trip to the Forbidden Forest to gather   
some more holly leaves for the first years' project when she heard a bloodcurdling furious female scream   
that rang out over the castle grounds. 

"MALFOY!" 

*** 

Minerva could feel an actual drop of cold sweat run down her forehead. Hours had passed since the   
beginning of the exam, and she felt almost physically sick as she stared at the final remaining question.   
The written part of the examination had been much more rigorous than she had expected and she had grown   
increasingly furious with herself as she forgot various tidbits of information that would have added   
extra impact. She nibbled thoughtfully on the end of her quill, then began to write, muttering her words   
under her breath as she chose them. 

"The four Elvish kings of Ramadar in the early twelfth century that made a significant contribution to   
international magic cooperation in Sweden were Syanan, Dorrein, Allastor, and Jazbeth, listed in order   
of the impact their addition to the Cheidmal, the main book of laws in that time period, made..." 

*** 

Albus stood outside the door of the tiny white room in which Minerva was taking her examination.   
He had finished his own test a few minutes ago and had turned the thick packet of papers to Terrel,   
such a difficult examination, and then led him through a maze of corridors to this tiny room, where they   
joined Aithne in waiting for Minerva. 

Aithne had been slowly savoring the few remaining bites of a crumpet or scone of some sort and had   
jumped when Terrel tapped her shoulder. She smiled guiltily and offered them the last bite. Terrel   
declined politely. Albus had, howevertaken a bit and found it delicious. In return, he offered her a   
lemon drop, which she had accepted tentatively. Unfortunately for Albus, she had discovered a new passion,   
and offered him several doughnuts in varying degrees of stickiness in return for a two-dozen count bag   
of the aforementioned sweets. 

They had just about reached an agreement that satisfied both parties when the door to the room sprang   
open and a very frazzled Minerva who looked almost ill and very angry with the thick packet of papers   
clasped in her right hand. She wordlessly handed Aithne the sheaf of papers without meeting her eyes   
and slumped against the wall, making it obvious she didn't want to discuss the examination. Aithne   
opened her mouth, began to say something, then stopped abruptly and closed it again. For once in her   
life, she had absolutely no idea what to talk about. 

Terrel, who looked rather amazed at this, realized someone had to say something. He thought for a   
second that seemed more like a millennium, then came up with something. "All right, then, I guess we   
should set off for Beverly's office. She will be grading your exams." 

Minerva's face grew even more pinched and drawn and she studied the tips of her shoes intently, her   
lips drawn in a fine line. Aithne shot a dirty look at Terrel, who rolled his eyes and began to stroll   
importantly down the corridor. With a final backward glance at Albus and Minerva, Aithne followed   
Terrel and motioned for them to do the same. Albus started to follow, then turned and hugged Minerva   
briefly. He started to whisper something in her ear, but couldn't find the words and instead patted   
her shoulder, then linked elbows with her and walked down the hall after Terrel. 

*** 

Rhiannon ran, her feet bare and her messy braid of dark hair swinging wildly in her wake. Her heels   
thudded painfully on the stone floor, but she did not notice their throbbing in her furious flight   
down the Hogwarts corridors. After a few false turns and several mild curses, she located the gargoyle   
that guarded Dumbledore's office and began pleading with it to open. But no matter how loudly she yelled   
or how frantically she beat her fists against its stone body, it remained just that: solid and   
immovable. She frantically began listing everything she could think of that Dumbledore showed a mild   
interest in, from Mozart's best concertos to the top league bowling alleys. Finally, after much casting   
around in her mind and by sheer luck, she chanced upon the topic of foods and screamed, _"Honeydukes'   
finest chocolate! Butterbeer! **Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"**_ Upon her pronouncement of this last   
and somewhat absurd proclamation, she was taken aback to see the gargoyle leap obligingly aside, though   
he did seem somewhat disgruntled at the severe beating he had taken from the flurry of her fists. She   
gaped dumbly for a moment, then took off at top speed down the unlocked corridor. 

She located the door to Dumbledore's quarters and pounded her already bruising fists against it, but   
received no answer. With growing anxiety, she jogged a few paces and reached the quarters in which   
McGonagall slept. Unlike Dumbledore, McGonagall had chosen a portrait of a old-fashioned violinist   
to guard her quarters as opposed to the great oaken door. 

"Er... Sorry to bother you, sir, but is the Professor...?" 

"She's out," the violinist replied snappily, impatient at having been interrupted from his concerto.   
He then turned his back on Rhiannon and continued with the cadenza. She wondered briefly where they   
could possibly be at this time of night, then dismissed the thought. 

Cursing under her breath, Rhiannon realized she would have to wait until the morning to report Draco's   
doings and retrieve her diary. Oh well, she thought, as she stalked angrily back to her tower.   
u Revenge is a dish best served cold, after all. 

*** 

Minerva and Albus were shown to a small sitting area in which to wait while Aithne and Terrel   
delivered their papers to the mysterious aforementioned Beverly. McGonagall sat on a couch in the   
corner that looked fairly comfortable, then buried her head in her hands in a display of depression   
Albus had only seen her in once or twice before. He sat next to her, wanting to say something to   
make her less angry at herself but not knowing how to possibly do so. Finally, he managed something   
that remotely displayed his intentions. 

"Minerva, what is troubling you? If you want to tell me, I'll listen." 

A sob caught in her throat and he thought that for a moment she wasn't going to reply. Then, in a   
voice that was tinny and much unlike her own, she said, "Enjoy being a member of the Unspeakables,   
because I won't be joining you." 

"Now, Minerva..." he began, but she continued in the same strangely choked voice. 

"Don't try to tell me I'm being silly, because you don't know some of the stupid mistakes I made!" 

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad..." But she cut him off again. 

"It was horrible." She lifted her face to look at him and he realized with concern that she was   
very pale, though tears were streaming down her face. "It was horrible." 

Realizing finally that nothing he could say would make her feel better, he hesitantly embraced her   
again and was relieved when she did not pull away. As he gently held her, he murmured, "Minerva,   
tell me something. Why does this matter so much to you? It won't be the end of the world if you   
don't make perfect marks on this test– though I doubt you'll make anything less than a wonderful score,   
what with the studying you've been doing." 

She didn't meet his eyes, but said in a voice that was much more like her own but still retained a   
hint of strangeness, "Papa would expect it. And I can't let this happen to the children." 

This statement stopped him completely. He couldn't say Murdoch McGonagall would have been proud of   
her no matter what her accomplishments might be; that was simply not true. He had been a brutally   
criticizing man, one so used to his own natural success that he couldn't accept the failures of others,   
no matter how small and insignificant. Also, there was no real way Minerva could singlehandedly stop   
Voldemort. No one could... alone. 


	8. Aberfeldy Again

***Isclaimerday*** 

Ihay oday otnay ownay arryhay otterpay. Orhay inervamay cgonagallmay. Orhay albushay umbledoreday. Acefay ithay,   
ihay ontday ownhay anythinghay. :D Alsohay, insomniahay elongsbay otay ephenstay ingkay, ashay ellway ashay ethay   
entionmay ofhay alloonbay ingstray andhay aurashay. Eshay ahay reatgay iterwray andhay ihay onglystray eccomendray   
ishay ooksbay. 

***Author's Note*** 

Sorry about the Isclaimerday. Couldn't resist. Instead of coming up with lots of new material, I am going to try   
to finish the job I hate: the editing of old chapters. I promise nothing too major will change, though! Thanks ever   
so much to my dear reviewers, whom I love very much! I'm sorry I can't list your names, this time; I'm in the car on   
my laptop and I'm not connected to the 'net. To those of you reading this for the first time, please review even   
if you don't like the story. I appreciate hearing from ya'll! P.S. Pailay, read the Hermione section... :D I've   
not forgotten your shipping requests..... 

************ 

Aithne trotted briskly down the hall with Terrel in tow. She no longer held the examinations in one hand, but had   
instead replaced them with her wand– 8 ½ inches long, mandrake leaf core. This Aithne was not the laughing,   
sweet-toothed woman of fifteen minutes ago. Her pale blue eyes gleamed with a light that was almost ferocious and   
animalistic, making them seem to be chips of ice in her pale face. Her steps remained brisk, but were no longer   
skipping and light. Instead of the many-pocketed robes in which she had formerly been clad, she had now donned   
dark blue robe with gold trimmings on one sleeve, apparently marking some sort of rank. 

Terrel said, rather respectfully, to this changed Aithne, "I will retrieve Albus and Minerva and bring them to   
the dueling room to meet you." 

"Good," she said, in a sharp tone. "I will be ready." 

As she left down the hall, Terrel shook his head and muttered to himself, "I always knew she had some multiple   
personality disorder..." 

*** 

Minerva had finally managed to calm herself down when Terrel entered again. Feeling horribly embarrassed at   
having lost control of her emotions in front of people she barely knew, she tried futilely to suppress the hot   
blush that was creeping up from her collar and cleared her throat. "Are the exams ready?" she asked quickly. 

"No. There's been a problem. During the few hours that you've been here, Voldemort has wreaked complete havoc   
in a small town in Scotland... Alberfeddy? Ablerfeddy? A moderately sized village, anyhow. Due to this,   
Beverly has given strict orders to continue immediately in all examinations and tests. I apologize for the   
short notice, but you will have to take the dueling exams." 

"Now?" Minerva gasped. 

"Beverly's orders were to duel at once." 

"Beg pardon, but who is this Bev..." Albus began, but Terrel cut him off. 

"No time for explanations now, I'm afraid. Your opponent is waiting in the dueling room." 

Exchanging an apprehensive glance, Minerva tucked her handkerchief into her pocket and followed Albus as Terrel   
led them briskly down the hall. 

*** 

Rhiannon had returned to her quarters and crawled into bed almost immediately after her visit to the   
Headmaster's office. It was rare for her to anger, but when she did it was quite intense and rather exhausting. 

So now, she was curled on the single cot that inhabited one corner of the windy tower, shivering slightly   
under a handmade quilt and wondering what had gotten into her. It was just a book, after all– a very special   
book, a small voice in her head shouted indignantly– and she didn't even know for sure that Draco had taken it.   
She could have misplaced it– not likely! the voice shouted– or left it lying under the table at breakfast. The   
voice did not verbally comment; it felt that its sarcastic scoffing was enough to get the point across. 

"I do wish you would shut up," she whispered aloud to the voice. 

Silence. 

"Much better." 

She rolled over and began to snore softly, though her dreams were filled with dancing blue notebooks and   
sour-faced Slytherins, all narrated by a small voice. 

*** 

They continued down the hall and finally reached a steel door with a small plaque next to it that read, in   
plain letters, "Dueling Room– Authorized Entry Only". Terrel turned to them with an odd expression. 

"Albus, you're first. Be careful and good luck." 

Terrel allowed the door to swing open slightly and gestured Albus in. He drew his wand and stepped in without   
looking at Minerva. Before Terrel could push the massive hunk of steel back into place, Minerva saw many   
flashes of green and gold light shoot across the room, ricocheting off the steel ceilings and floors. She felt   
her stomach clench ominously and willed herself not to be sick. 

A few minutes passed. The room, impenetrable by spells from outside, was apparently soundproofed as well.   
Just as she was beginning to worry that something had happened to Albus, the door swung outward and Terrel   
waited expectantly. Instead of Albus' cheerful baritone voice, a female one that sounded more like a growl   
barked, "Next, please." 

This was it. 

Terrel gestured toward the door; it loomed like a fathomless cavern into which prisoners would have been led to   
meet their doom. Before she knew what she was doing, she had taken her wand from her robe pocket and was   
walking automatically towards the door. Remembering the flashes of light that had seared the air only moments   
after Albus had entered, she brandished her own wand in a position so that she would be able to defend   
herself at a moment's notice. 

She edged into the room and the door swung shut with a finality that rang ominously and rattled her nerves   
slightly. Approximately twenty-five feet away, another wand was aimed dead center at her forehead and, for   
a moment, she stood dumbly as she recognized its owner. 

Aithne Bode was crouched in the middle of the room... but was this Aithne? Though this person shared a distinct   
similarity in features and build, her face was twisted into a menacing scowl and she showed no signs of   
joking or laughing. For a moment, she stood, questioning herself, then realized that, whoever this person   
was, she would have to fight. A green streak blazed past her head and she ducked mechanically. Then, she   
turned her wand on the not-Aithne and began firing the best spells she knew. 

*** 

Hermione lay awake in her dorm room, staring at the curtains surrounding her bed. Insomnia, she thought.   
Just like that Stephen King book of which her mother had been so fond. She laughed quietly, rather sadly. Next   
thing you know, I'll start seeing auras and balloon-strings. 

She rolled over, debating between attempting sleep again and taking a midnight trip to the library. There was   
a wonderful Defense Against The Dark Arts book she had noticed yesterday and she was sorely tempted to sneak   
out and thumb through its well-worn pages. Lately she had been spending an even greater portion of her free   
time in the library, seeking and finding solace in the musty pages and leather covers. Harry and Ron had been   
awfully distant, she thought. It was as though they didn't even know anything was wrong with the third member   
of their trio. 

Come to think of it, even Ron, to whom she had grown extremely close, hadn't said ten words to her since the   
day she had received the envelope. She frowned into the darkness. Boys. Sometimes she wished she was closer   
to some of the Gryffindor girls. 

Abruptly making up her mind, she swung her feet out of the bed and into a thin pair of slippers that lay   
beside her bed for midnight ventures. She padded softly from the dorm, out of the common room, and down the   
drafty corridor to the library. 

*** 

McGonagall, breathing hard and with sweat running down her back, stood over her opponent. Although blood was   
trickling in a steady stream down Minerva's forehead and her left ankle was aching unbearably, she had managed   
to capture Aithne in a Binding spell and had then quickly sent thick ropes flying from her wand with which   
to tie her up. Many spells had been fired, many minor injuries had been obtained, and many blocking spells   
had worked, some for better and some for worse. 

"Congratulations, you caught me," the captive said, in a voice muffled by the ropes winding around her face.   
Sarcastically, she continued, "So aren't you going to kill me now?" 

"Actually, no." Minerva leaned against a wall, slightly out-of-breath, and crossed her arms. "If I killed you   
when you're tied up at my feet, I'd be no better than the Death Eaters." 

Before she remembered that she was most likely being monitored on her progress, Terrel and Albus appeared in   
front of her, Albus in the same disheveled state as she. 

"Good work, Minerva! Jolly good fun! It's good for Aithne's ego to get beaten every once and a while," Terrel   
said, with a hint of a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

A voice void of the former malicious sarcasm drifted to their ears from the tied-up bundle on the floor. "Yes,   
but two painful losses in one night deals a good blow to even my super-inflated bighead. Albus, you were terrific!   
And Minerva, that really was a nice job. Now will you untie me, please?" They all laughed and set to work   
undoing the thick brown ropes. 

Standing and wiping sweat mingled with blood from her brow, Minerva suddenly realized she was very tired.   
With a weak smile, she said, "Toto and Dorothy should be going back to Kansas soon, right?" 

Aithne laughed heartily. "Sure. We'll send you your test scores. But," she added, her voice suddenly   
solemn, "you'll have to travel by Portal. This last attack was bad. The Ministry has shut down the Apparation   
and Floo networks." For a moment, the steely, cold expression crossed her face as she mentioned the attack. In   
a fleeting instant, however, it passed. 

Albus looked shocked. "The last time that happened was when Grindelwald..." 

"Yes." Terrel looked thoughtful and somewhat reminiscent. "Yes, it was." 

Aithne jumped in. "But enough of that! Back to Hogwarts with both of you. You should celebrate on such a   
successful completion of exams!" With a distracted flick of her wand, she effortlessly created a Portal and   
gestured them through. 

Before the Portal took hold to transport them to their destination, Minerva could hear Aithne distantly yell,   
"...and Minerva, get some sleep! You look like you've been hit by the Knight Bus!" 

***** 

Trudging up the hill to the castle, their robes slightly stained with the soil from their rough landing,   
Minerva and Albus moved in silence. Albus was studying the lovely smattering of stars that speckled the   
night sky; Minerva was silently cursing herself for acting like such an idiot in front of Albus. Looking   
back on the exams, they seemed to be much smaller and less significant than they had seemed at the moment.   
She felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment rush over her. How could she have been so stupid as to cry over   
them? 

She glanced over at his face, which was calm and tranquil. For a moment, his eyes remained trained to the   
heavens, then flickered over to her face upon feeling the weight of her gaze. She felt her cheeks color slightly   
as she briefly met his light-blue stare, then looked hastily away. 

They continued to travel in silence until they reached the top step of the castle. She stretched a slender   
white hand out to grasp the handle of the door, but Albus covered her fist with his palm before she could tug   
it open. He opened his mouth to say something, stopped, and cleared his throat. 

"Minerva, I..." 

"Yes?" 

He paused. "Good night, Minerva." 


	9. The Beginning of a Journey

*Disclaimer*   
I know, I know... It's not mine. But can't I pretend? : ) 

*Author's Note*   
Thanks to my reviewers! I love you guys. MK: Thank you for being such a faithful reviewer! I   
don't think you've missed a chapter yet. I appreciate it. tortuga23: Yay! A new reviewer!   
Thanks for reading. If you (or anyone else) ever have any suggestions, feel free to send them   
to me at kdunn@ziggycom.net. I'll be glad to read them. LemonDrops: You're back! Good to   
hear from you. Sorry this took a while; my piano recital's coming up and so is the school   
musical. Fanfics have had to go on the back burner for a bit. Inca: *mysteriously*   
Maybe..... : ) Take into consideration that I'm in the AD/MM yahoo group, too. *wink* emu:   
Power to the fluties! Sorry this isn't exactly next week, but I'm trying, I promise. Thanks so   
much for reviewing! Aurelia: Great to hear from you! I hope you'll enjoy this next chapter as   
well. Child-of-the-Dawn: *evil grin* Pailay: I really appreciate your regular reviews. If   
you have any more requests, they sometimes help me get started, since that gives me a goal to   
meet. I'm glad to try to work them in! K-Da-Great: Thanks for reviewing! I'll email you this   
time... : ) lol. Enjoy! Say hi to Joker for me. Pauline: I'm definitely taking your advice   
into consideration in this chapter. Thanks for giving me something to fix, as well as   
complimenting me highly. *blushes* I'm going to try to show Aithne's other side a bit as well,   
with hopes of not giving her some sort of multiple personality disorder.... Wish me luck! It   
was great to hear from you. 

And now, for some actual writing! 

*** 

Minerva had just climbed into bed and closed her eyes later that same night when an urgent knock   
sounded. With a sigh, she kicked off the covers and hurried to the door, rubbing the sleep from   
her eyes as she went and muttering crossly about indecent hours to call upon someone. 

She groped about for the doorknob, finally finding it in the darkness of her chambers, and   
pulled the door open. Through bleary eyes, she realized her visitor was Albus. "What's wrong?   
What happened?" she said, as she noted he seemed to be considerably more excited than usual. 

"Good news or bad news?" he asked. 

"Good news, please." 

"Alright. Apparently you didn't do half as bad as you thought on the test, because Aithne and   
Terrel just sent word that we both passed with flying colors!" 

Before she thought about what she was doing, she let out a small noise akin to a squeal and   
hugged Albus tightly. Then, blushing profusely, she released him, cleared her throat, and said   
with as much composure as she could muster, "Bad news?" 

"They want us to come with them to Aberfeldy to investigate the attack." 

"That's not so bad, is it?" 

"Tonight." 

"Oh. That is bad. What about my classes tomorrow? I can't just go off gallivanting around   
Scotland indefinitely, you know; how long will we be gone? Will we get back in time..." 

"I don't know, Minerva. I'll arrange for you to have a substitute, just in case, and I will   
come up with a convenient excuse of some sort for myself. Plenty of the councils I am required   
to be on have a habit of calling spur-of-the-moment meetings, and I can probably convince one   
of the higher-ranking Ministry officials to come oversee the school until my return. Now, we   
must leave. It's at least an hour or more on broomsticks, and I doubt the Apparation network   
has been restored yet. Grab a cloak and meet me right outside the front doors; bring your   
broom, as well." 

Before she could reply, he was gone. With another sigh, she found a cloak and a dose of the   
Altavegli potion, then grabbed her broomstick from its cupboard and left her quarters, all the   
time wondering once again why she had ever gotten herself into this in the first place. 

*** 

The chilly night air whipped around her body as Minerva carefully flew over the hills of   
Scotland. They had been in the air for at least an hour and a half, and the night was not warm,   
to say the least. Shivering, she huddled slightly lower over the broom handle and silently   
urged it on towards a tiny pinprick of light she could barely see in the distance: Aberfeldy.   
Albus suddenly veered to the left, nearer her own broom, and called out to her. 

"We should be there in a few minutes, if we keep this pace. Are you doing alright?" 

"Just a little cold," she replied, her teeth chattering. 

He nodded, and she stopped observing his motions and instead concentrated on the steadily   
growing light. Suddenly, he was flying directly beside her and he held out something towards   
her broom. It was his cloak. 

"It's not anything wonderful, but it has a Heating Charm on it that I think you will find quite   
useful on a night that's as brisk as this one." 

"But won't you get cold?" 

"I'll be fine. Take it," he called. 

She gratefully took the cloak and swung it over her shoulders awkwardly as she clung to the   
broomstick. "Thank you," she said. 

"Any time, my dear," he replied. "Any time." 

******* 

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Minerva knew there was still trouble in the village of   
Aberfeldy. In the distance there were sounds of fire crackling and people running, but the only   
things visible were piles of debris and rubble. McGonagall turned queasily away from a   
particular pile where part of a woman's hand lay smoking, a wedding band still on the finger.   
"Albus, we should find Aithne and Terrel now." 

He patted her shoulder and led her away from the heaps of wreckage, calling the names of the two   
Unspeakables. Within moments, they appeared, disheveled, from a stack of broken wood and glass.   
Terrel's lips were very thin and white, and Aithne's hand was bleeding and her face was   
completely blank of any emotion. 

In a crisp, humorless voice, Aithne said, "Minerva, you're with Terrel; Albus, you're with me.   
Let's go. We have lots of work to do." Silently, Albus and Minerva shared a glance, then   
parted. 

******** 

"Aithne sure does change moods quickly, doesn't she?" Minerva said to Terrel, who was leading   
her towards the section of the village that looked the most damaged. 

"Yes. That is the one characteristic of that blasted woman at which I marvel." 

"Why does she do it, do you suppose?" Minerva broke into a jog to keep up with his lengthy   
stride. 

"In our business, as you know, there isn't much time for fun and games. That's why a great deal   
of the Unspeakables who retire end up in St. Mungo's. Unless you find some time for laughter,   
you die inside, so to speak." 

"So you're saying she concentrates her personality into two parts? That sounds rather Jekyll   
and Hyde-ish, if you'll pardon the example." 

"It is, rather. Except instead of meanness opposing kindness, she has humor versus sobriety.   
It's a bit scary to watch the transformation. Now, we must take these piles of wood and glass   
and move them to see if there's anyone trapped and alive underneath...." 

********* 

Cornelius Fudge sighed slightly. He hadn't particularly wanted to come to Hogwarts in the   
middle of the night for no apparent reason, but he knew he couldn't exactly afford to refuse   
Albus' request, either. He trudged up the stairs to the headmaster's office, the gargoyle   
bowing slightly as he passed. He settled comfortably into the putrid orange chair, wrinkling   
his nose in disgust at its color. Pushing his small round glasses higher on the bridge of his   
nose, he began to sift through the piles of papers on the desk. 

An envelope caught his eye. There was no paper inside of it, but the envelope itself was enough   
to arouse suspicion. He scanned it with a practiced eye. "So..." His lips curved into a rather   
ominous smirk that made his round face look odd. "The Unspeakables have been contacting the   
headmaster of Hogwarts, have they? I will remember this." He nodded. "Yes, I shall remember   
this." 

******** 

Minerva brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, along with beads of sweat. They had been   
rummaging through the rubble for hours, and so far no survivors had been found. She had   
uncovered six victims and Terrel five. They had laid them out in a row, covering the faces with   
the cloaks the unfortunate eleven had been wearing at the time of the attack. It was a ghastly   
sight, and she knew somehow that she would never forget the stillness of the forms and the   
hideousness of their wounded bodies. 

She jumped slightly as she heard a noise from the pile. She began to move faster, finding   
renewed strength in her muscles as she also found renewed hopes of a survivor. The noise   
sounded again, and she threw the boards into a messy heap. Her hands were cut badly from the   
broken glass, but she paid no heed; in this work a minute could mean life or death, and there   
was no time to mope over an issue of vanity. Tossing aside one final board, she was horrified   
to find a small child of about five or six. 

The little girl was curled in a ball with a doll clutched to her chest. Dropping to her knees   
among the shards of glass, Minerva reached out and, very gently, picked her up. The child was   
light as a feather and laid rather limply in Minerva's arms, but, to her immense relief, the   
girl was still breathing. Excitedly, she yelled to Terrel. "She's alive! She's alive!" The   
child's eyelids fluttered open and she looked up, confused and frightened. Terrel rushed up to   
them then and said, "Take her over to that tree there--" he pointed "-- and the mediwizards will   
take care of her as soon as possible." 

Minerva carted the little girl over to the tree and very gently deposited her at its roots. The   
girl, who had been silent until then, said softly, "Where is Daddy?" Minerva felt tears   
collecting at the corners of her eyes, but she managed to restrain them. She had seen the   
girl's father earlier-- he was now lying with the other ten bodies, face covered. 

"We're looking for him, love, I promise. What's your name?" 

"Beth McAllister." 

"I'm Minerva. Are you hurt anywhere?" Beth shook her head. "If you need anything at all, tell   
one of these people." She gestured to the many busy mediwizards, who were helping search the   
area as well as tend to survivors. 

"Is Daddy dead?" 

One of Minerva's tears fell, but she turned her head to hide it from the little girl. "Don't   
worry, Beth. You're safe." She leaned over, kissed the top of the girl's head, and strode   
briskly off to continue searching, tears blurring her vision. 


	10. Those Three Pesky Little Words

Author's Note/Disclaimer 

Thanks to my reviewers! I wrote this chapter on vacation and I also used pencil and paper as   
opposed to computer, so I apologize for any stylistic changes this has caused if it sounds even   
worse than my other chapters (though I'm not sure that's possible). Anyway, none of this stuff   
belongs to me, it's all J.K.'s, and I hope you enjoy it. Btw, the fifth book is awesome, is it   
not?!?!?! 

It's growing late-- or technically, early, thought Minerva through her sleep-deprived mind.   
She hadn't stopped searching through the rubble since their arrival late last night and her   
hands were caked with her own dried blood from picking up slivers of glass. Terrel and the   
Mediwizards had impressed quickly on the new workers not, under any circumstances, to use magic.   
If there were people trapped under the debris and magic was used to lift the chunks of glass,   
wood, and stone, it would be all to easy to accidentally catch a person in the cross-fire,   
resulting in more serious injuries for the Mediwizards to deal with. "Plus," he had added in an   
exasperated voice, "Aithne has taught me through personal experience that the Obliviators don't   
appreciate being called away on their off-hours to deal with unnecessary sightings." He looked   
as though he wanted to add a few other remarks, but thought better of it and then hurried away   
to relate this rule to a group of younger wizards who were using streams of purple sparks to   
blast the particularly large chunks into oblivion. 

Since Beth, Minerva had found no other survivors. That little girl reminded her of someone,   
though she couldn't think whom it might be. Not in looks, but more in essence. The solemn,   
controlled little voice asking her so collectedly, "Is Daddy dead?" Not a tear or a frown, just   
complete control of emotion. Or maybe shock, she realized. With this thought, worry for the   
little girl again flooded through her head. She resolved firmly that as soon as she was allowed   
a break from the work, she would find the child again to make sure she was receiving adequate   
care. 

With this concern bottled, at least for the moment, her brain became fair game for the clouds of   
fatigue that had been trying to take over for the past several hours. She stifled a yawn, her   
hands still mechanically lifting and moving debris and her eyes searching for a scrap of cloth,   
a piece of jewelry, any sign at all that a human figure might lay alive underneath the next   
plank or uprooted shrub. 

She had seen the remains of so many lives in the past few hours. After all, these piles of   
smoldering wood were people's homes that had once been furnished and decorated and lived in.   
She had seen charred copies of the daily newspaper, still lying open to the funny pages or   
turned to a sports section. A fad at the time was to place a decorated wooden sign with the   
family surname above the front door, and numerous still-burning halves of these had turned up,   
with the charmingly painted letters peeling and flaking under the heat. She had wiped aside a   
few tears for the first of these pitiful grave markers, but her heart had finally managed to   
harden itself to the gut-wrenching sights and her tears remained unshed, bottled up for a time   
when more privacy could be had. She wished for a moment that she were at Hogwarts, asleep in   
her comfortable bed, but immediately she was overcome with guilt and had to sit down on   
someone's footstool that had miraculously survived the attack. Looking at the row or those   
lost, now just shadowy, dew-covered mounds, she realized how fortunate she was to be alive, fed,   
and clothed. These people would never get to sleep in a fluffy, warm bed again-- they would   
rest in lonely peace six feet under the ground. She sniffed once, twice, then returned to her   
work with a vigor. 

*** 

Albus had sincerely hoped Aithne would resume the more cheerful side of her personality.   
Although her serious demeanor was perfectly understandable under the circumstances, it would be   
nice to have some chatter to take his mind off of the gruesomeness of the work, although their   
section to clean up was more of a business district, with only a few night shift workers.   
Finally, under his subtle hinting and encouragement, she seized upon the prompting and became   
slightly more animated. Conversation flowed with ease as they discussed everything from their   
occupations (though this was a bit one-sided, since Aithne's information was still considered   
restricted) to the M.O.U.S.E. exams to a topic they were both wildly enthusiastic about-- Muggle   
sweets. But after many hours, even this fond subject grew old and the discussion dwindled to a   
few moments of awkward silence. Then, with her usual randomness, Aithne spoke. 

"You're in love with Minerva, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. 

"Er... Well..." Bewildered and a little nervous, he took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I   
am. But how did you guess?" 

"You may be considered the wisest man in the wizarding world, but I am beginning to think you're   
as clueless as a first year when it comes to romance." She paused from digging in the debris   
to mockingly clasp her hands over her heart and bat her eyelashes rapidly. "It's obvious. You   
stare at her when she isn't looking and you call her 'my dear'". 

"I call everyone 'dear'." 

"You don't call Terrel 'dear'." 

"He's an exception." 

"Then you can't say that you call everyone 'dear.' You don't call me 'dear', either, by the way." 

"Point taken." 

"I rest my case." She smirked triumphantly. "What does she say about all this?" 

"I... er... haven't told her..." 

"WHAT?!" 

"There hasn't been a good moment to say anyt-" 

"I can't BELIEVE you!" 

"-hing and I don't know if she feels the same w-" 

"She's OBVIOUSLY in love with you!" 

"-ay and--- wait! What did you say?" 

"That I can't believe you haven't-" 

"No, after that!" 

"That Minerva obviously loves you too?" 

"Yes! How do you know?" 

"The same way I knew you were in love with her. It's obvious, Albus!" 

"Not to me..." 

Aithne rolled her eyes. "Of course not! You're in love. Don't be a dingbat." She smiled,   
then rolled her eyes again and moved towards another mountain of rubble. 

Albus blinked. Was he being a dingbat? Surely not. He had been called everything from a barmy   
codger to a crackpot old fool, but never, ever a dingbat. But then again, he mused, he hadn't   
really loved anybody before and maybe dingbattiness went hand in hand with love, like Oreos with   
milk. In school, he'd wrapped himself in books and homework. Later, he did the same with his   
job of teaching at Hogwarts. He had always worked on time-consuming projects on the side and   
had spent his extra time experimenting with dragon's blood or any number of other dangerous   
substances. There had been never been time for a romantic relationship, nor a woman suitable   
enough to tempt him--- until Minerva. 

He had taught her Transfiguration in school, her most prominent talent on a pristine record of   
marks. This age gap, too, worried him; perhaps he was too old for her? Perhaps it would feel   
strange to her to be loved by someone nearly twice her age? And what if she loved someone else? 

The magnitude of this thought struck him with such great force that he dropped a brick on his   
foot. He hadn't thought of this before. For a moment, it felt as though there was a great   
writhing snake in his stomach, constricting around his hopes and squeezing them to bits. Then,   
fortunately, his logic took over and banish the serpent. Minerva wore no promise rings or   
pendants, showed no signs of being in love (though he had already proved himself a poor judge,   
according to Aithne), and had never mentioned anyone special during their long chats over chess   
games and tea. 

His hopes mended themselves. 

He finally gave up on worrying about the situation and decided to simply tell Minerva how he   
felt. If she did feel the same way, he would be ecstatically happy over the whole thing. If she   
didn't feel the same way, he would be horribly embarrassed but would simply go on being friends   
with her. Either way, worrying was only wasting the precious energy he could be using to move   
rubble. He tossed aside a few more bricks, then realized he had one residing on his foot. He   
looked at it quizzically for a moment, then shook it off and continued to work. 

*** 

Hermione decided she would never find a cure for her sleeplessness. She had been down to the   
kitchens to fetch her own glass of warm milk, refusing assistance from a hoard of sleepy-eyed   
house elves in makeshift nightcaps, but had found herself as wide awake as ever. She had   
attempted to wade through another chapter from a book she had started previously, but the words   
all ran together and for probably the first time in her life she absorbed absolutely nothing.   
Hesitantly, she stood from the library table at which she had been trying to read and left. 

She entered the halls, searching for McGonagall's office and living quarters in hopes that she,   
too, would be awake at this late hour. Unfortunately, she found the doors closed, though lights   
were burning inside. She knocked, first softly then loudly. It became obvious that the   
professor was neither in her office nor her living quarters. Out of a growing desperation for   
someone to talk to besides the other girls in her dorm, she even checked the Transfiguration   
classroom and the Headmaster's office. Not only was McGonagall absent from both places, but   
Hermione also saw through the Headmaster's open office door that Cornelius Fudge was sitting in   
Dumbledore's chair with no sign of Dumbledore anywhere. Her curiosity was growing steadily, but   
Hermione knew that even as a prefect the punishment for being caught out of bed would be severe,   
never mind that she had been looking for a professor. Allowing her mind to work on the mystery   
set before it, she tiptoed back to the Gryffindor dorms and crawled under her covers, thinking   
furiously. After a few hours, she drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

*** 

The piles of rubble had been mostly cleared away by early morning of that day. Increasing   
numbers of wizards had come pouring in to help and under this growing flow the pies were sifted   
through into their currently diminished state. With tired, bloodshot eyes, the searchers met in   
the center of what used to be Aberfeldy's middle-class housing district. Terrel, who had   
somehow become the leader of Albus' and Minerva's group, gave a short 'thank-you-for-coming'   
speech, then dismissed them. Albus peered through the disheveled crowd, searching for Minerva   
with Aithne's advice ringing in his heart. He vowed to finally spit out those three pesky words   
as soon as the opportunity presented itself. But for now, he was just hoping to find Minerva in   
the crowd. Finally, two or three people shifted out of the way and he caught a glimpse of her   
through the gap. He called her name and she looked back. 

"Just a minute; I need to take care of something," she called, looking and sounding very tired.   
She set off briskly towards a large tree that had miraculously remained standing through the   
horrific attack. Albus slowly followed her. He saw her look around, finally finding a small   
girl with a doll dangling from one hand. Minerva spoke to the girl for a moment, then the child   
threw her arms around Minerva's neck. He could tell even from the distance at which he was   
standing that Minerva was trying desperately not to cry, with her eyes and nose reddened. She   
released the child and kissed her on the forehead then, with the child's prompting, placed a   
kiss on the forehead of the dolly, too. Giving them both a final wave, she turned and walked   
with her head down back to where Albus was standing. He tentatively slipped his arm around her   
shoulders, as nervous as a first year. This was the moment of truth. 

"Ready to go back to Hogwarts, my dear?" He changed his mind. He wouldn't tell her. Not yet. 

"Yes, I think so." 

They mounted their broomsticks and kicked off into the fresh morning air. 

***** 

So what do you think? Please review. 


	11. An Evening Sky

*Disclaimer* 

I own this not. It was perceived by J.K.'s great brain, and to that it shall always belong. Too bad for the rest of us,   
huh? 

*Author's Note* 

I have so many people to thank this time! All my faithful reviewers who are as listed: Athenia McGonagall, petriebird18,   
AngelDes1313, Child-of-the-Dawn, K-da-great, LinZE, Laura24, betsy, Lemondropaddict, MK in La La Land, Snuffles 55,   
kelpylion, and Pailay. And also to Crookykanks, who taught me how to make terrific little cat thingies. See? >^-^ I love hearing from y'all! Reviews make the time spent writing worth every minute of it. Also, an additional thanks to   
the Jayhawks for creating such great music (buy their new CD, it's awesome!!!) and to the makers of mozzarella string   
cheese (spiffy stuff, I'm telling ya!). With that said, here's Chapter 11. Bon apatite! 

*** 

Rhiannon Sinistra had not forgotten about her stolen diary– quite the opposite, as a matter of fact. However, after many   
hours of thought on the matter, she had not gone in search of Dumbledore or McGonagall again. What would she say should   
she actually manage to corner one of them long enough to relate the story? That a fifth year Slytherin boy had stolen a   
twenty-five year old book filled with notes on the movements of Uranus? She could count on a visit to St. Mungo's if   
she sought help on the matter. 

She knew it might be best to chalk the diary up as a loss, at least temporarily. "I am a sentimental fool," she   
muttered. "Keeping that tattered old rubbish wrapped in tissue paper like it was a valuable jewel! Ha!" Then, a   
wistful note crept into her voice unbidden and she whispered, as though not wanting this brazen side of herself to hear,   
"Though maybe I could have stayed a sentimental fool just a little bit longer..." 

She sighed heavily as she debated what to do. The last thing she wanted was to try to stand in front of a class of   
Slytherins and teach them calmly about Venus and Neptune. She knew she would lose her temper, throw things, yell   
and scream... and cry. How she hated to cry. Her footsteps were heavier than usual as she stalked back and forth   
over the wide planks of the tower floor. Silence was broken only by the metronomic ticking of a clock and the creak   
of the boards. Her hands twisted nervously, subconsciously. What to do? 

Suddenly, a thought struck her– it was so obvious that she wondered at not having seen the possibility before. A   
vacation! A short one, but nevertheless a break from the castle and its occupants, a chance to get away and clear her   
mind of missing diaries and ivory envelopes. There was nothing she longed for more than the peace of the little village   
where she had lived as a child. Her father's things had not been sorted through yet, his plants would need watering, and   
she could have time to grieve selfishly and properly with no childish pranks or interfering from anyone. 

The idea was such a perfect one that she began throwing a few things in a duffel bag at once: a fresh set of robes, her   
star charts, her wand, and some other basic necessities were all tossed into the small, lightweight bag. She slung it   
over her shoulder and was headed out the door when she remembered one small complication– Dumbledore. She changed her   
course, heading for the Headmaster's office instead of the front doors. He would have to let her leave– there was no   
choice– surely...? 

Fortunately for her, the door to his office was closed and locked tightly. As she tacked a short and very polite note   
explaining her absence to his door, she felt as though a great burden had been lifted from her back. As much as she   
loved teaching and working with students who loved the stars, she hadn't actually left Hogwarts in at least two or three   
years and the thought of returning to her village– even with her father not waiting for her– was comforting and reassuring. She slipped down the stairs and out the front doors, then set out walking along the dirt path that trailed for some eight or nine miles through open meadows. 

She would have used magic to speed her journey, but she didn't trust the Knight Bus and one glance at the brilliant night   
sky had banished any such thoughts from her mind. How could she resist walking under this endless sheet of black velvet,   
speckled with threads of silver and gold? The miles disappeared all too quickly under her feet and, as usual, her head   
was filled with thoughts as she traveled the wandering path. She wondered the whole way about ticket prices, since she   
didn't read the newspapers and rarely ventured into Hogsmeade. How much did things cost nowadays? Fortunately, she   
found when she reached the train station that had ample gold saved up for the purchase. The ticket clerk, a elderly   
man with a bow tie, asked her in a craggily voice, "Where to, miss?" 

"One round trip ticket to Aberfeldy, please, sir." 

The man nodded, then tore off the ticket and handed it to her through the hole in the glass booth. "That'll be   
one Galleon, and the train leaves in fifteen minutes. I'm afraid the furthest we go is Arina, since we don't have   
Muggle villages on our route. Is that still all right?" She assented, then passed him her money and took a seat on a very   
uncomfortable wooden bench to wait. The minutes drifted quickly by as she studied through the window the bright speck of   
light that was Venus. Fortunately, it wasn't very long before the train arrived, and she climbed on, grateful to   
finally be on her way to the village she loved. 

As the grassy hills bathed in moonlight sped by, Rhiannon rested her forehead against the window and watched her   
breath condense on the glass pane. She let her eyelids slowly close and remembered Aberfeldy as she had last seen it:   
a typical small town, with rows of white houses and green, neatly clipped lawns. The neighborhood dog, affectionately   
dubbed Muttsy, had trotted down the sidewalk every morning, sniffing for scraps surreptitiously handed to him by the   
local children; the watchful mothers, who always saw, rebuked them mildly and bade them to go play until the scones were   
finished. Lemonade was the drink of choice and her last memory before she left for Hogwarts was of sitting under a shade   
tree in her friend Myra's backyard, savoring mouthfuls of the sweet yet tart liquid. Somehow, the world had not touched   
Aberfeldy. It was as though its inhabitants lived in a pocket in time, never troubled by the rushing waters around it. 

Somewhere amidst these peaceful thoughts, she must have drifted into a gentle sleep because she was awakened by the   
conductor shouting, "Next stop, Arina! Arina, next stop!" She yawned once, then rubbed her forehead where it had been   
pressing against the glass for many miles. Snatching her lightweight bag from the overhead compartment, she took her   
place impatiently in the queue. Finally, she managed to squeeze out of the door and into the fresh night air. Aberfeldy   
was the Muggle sister-town to Arina, so it would only be a few minutes' walk on well-lit sidewalks. 

Rhiannon put forth a conscious effort in lengthening her strides and did not notice the lack of people on the streets,   
nor the smoke rising over the hill. When she finally topped the last bend, just as morning's light was rising, she stopped   
dead in her tracks. In front of her lay the gutted wasteland of her hometown. 

*** 

They had arrived back at the castle with only an hour to spare before breakfast. Albus had tried during the entire   
flight back to convince Minerva that she needed a day off to catch up on her sleep. Unfortunately for him, she had most   
certainly inherited the McGonagall stubbornness and refused every attempt to coax her into seeing things his way.   
Finally, he relented. 

"All right, all right! Work if you want to!" he exclaimed jokingly. "I swear, Minerva, you are an employer's nightmare,   
never wanting to take a sick day!" Then he added, more seriously, "But do take the Altavegli potion, my dear. And I'm   
officially calling off our chess game tonight, so you can go to sleep early." She protested, but Dumbledore could be   
every bit as stubborn as a McGonagall when he so desired. "Minerva, you know you can't survive on the Altavegli potion   
alone. It's a temporary solution, but nothing can replace real old-fashioned rest." He smiled at her, paused, then   
stepped a little closer and extended his hand toward her face. 

For one thrilling moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart leapt into her throat and she felt a flush   
creeping up from her collar. She was a little disappointed when he rubbed a smudge from her nose. 

"Soot," he explained. Then he turned and walked to the castle, cursing himself for being such a lovesick fool and feeling   
a little disappointed with himself for not summoning up that famed Gryffindor courage. However, he thought, I suppose I'm   
allowed to act a little silly. This is the first time I've ever had more than slight romantic feelings for anyone. He   
shook his head, attempting to clear the thoughts whizzing around his brain, and entered the front doors. 

She stood there for a moment, just staring after him, a surge of disappointment coursing through her veins. Then she   
mentally shook herself. "What was I thinking?" she muttered. "He wouldn't kiss me. He's just my friend! And to think   
I actually wanted– no, _expected_ him to!" She trudged toward the castle, broomstick in tow. "Just a friend, that's   
all. Nothing more." But a tiny voice seemed to whisper in the back of her head, _"Who are you trying to convince, the   
rest of the world... or yourself?"_

*** 

Minerva managed to stagger, bleary-eyed, up to her quarters, where she took a hot shower and drank as much of the   
Altavegli potion as she dared. She waited for the familiar surge of energy to tingle in her fingertips, but felt with   
dismay that only a very small portion of her fatigue was relieved. I'm growing immune to this blasted concoction, she   
realized. Albus was right. "Curses!" 

Still yawning, she made her way down to breakfast though she was not at all hungry. Last night's events had turned away   
her appetite for quite some time. As she picked at her eggs and toast, she noticed that her hands were trembling, probably   
from stoppered emotions as well as the overwhelming lack of rest. She fought back thoughts that threatened to invade   
her mind: thoughts of death, of destruction, of a small girl whose life would never be "normal" again, of Aithne, of   
Terrel, of Albus... The latter thoughts she fought more fiercely than any others. He had been her teacher, for heaven's   
sake! But the more the nagging thoughts persisted, the more she had to acknowledge that she did have feelings at least   
slightly more than that of the typical coworker or friend. "Go away!" she whispered angrily to the thoughts, throwing   
her fork rather forcefully at her plate. 

The clatter of silver on the platter brought her back to full consciousness. Albus was looking at her strangely, as was   
Severus Snape who was seated on her other side. She glanced at them nervously, then said, attempting feebly to cover her   
mistake, "Dropped my fork." 

Severus threw her a glance that said he was clearly questioning her mental stability. She wanted badly to tell him   
exactly what she thought of him, but was merely grateful that the excuse had diverted attention from herself. If Albus   
had thought she was just talking to herself out of the blue, he really would make her take a day off and sleep. Definitely   
not what she wanted. 

Minerva managed to contain the pesky thoughts through most of her classes. With her hands and mind busy teaching the   
first years to transfigure matchsticks into needles, the second years shoes into vases, the fifth years rabbits into   
gloves, and the seventh years to transfigure each others' noses into turnips (and back again, of course), she had no time   
to think of anything other than how to save Neville Longbottom's rabbit from an untimely demise. The boy has a good heart,   
really, she thought as she carefully removed the rabbit's tail from Neville's posterior amid giggles from his fellow fifth   
years. She shot them a disapproving glare that wasn't quite as withering as usual, but nevertheless effective. Silence   
reigned supreme in the classroom once more. 

She yawned her way through a delicious supper that she barely tasted, then excused herself without disruption, much to her   
relief. Walking briskly and quietly, she made her way through the corridors to her quarters, hoping not to run into any   
trouble-making students; she didn't feel at all like playing disciplinarian at the moment. She had been feeling tired and   
slightly shaky all day and she longed to crawl under the covers of her bed. Her only fear was that, when she was cooped   
up alone with her thoughts in the silence of a dark room, she would start sobbing herself silly. And when she started   
crying, she was always afraid she wouldn't be able to stop. 

Her fatigue, however, overrode her fears and she changed into her long white nightgown, wove her hair into its usual   
braid, and slid between the clean sheets of her bed. She was just beginning to think that maybe she wouldn't start   
crying after all when the thought hit her. 

Beth was the same age she herself had been when her own mother had died. 

Grief swept over her like a wall of water that she hadn't even seen coming. She cried hot, heavy tears for Beth, for   
Beth's father, for her own mother, for her brother, for all the victims of Voldemort and Grindelwald, and for herself.   
She cried for the dead and for the living. Sorrow tore at her heart like the claws of a blackbird. 

And someone knocked at the door. 

Frantically, she rolled out of bed and grabbed a handkerchief, mopping her face fiercely. She reached for her bathrobe,   
but the knock came again, more urgently this time, and she abandoned it, running to the door and tugging it open, fearing   
more bad news. 

Hermione Granger, looking unusually timid and embarrassed, stood looking at the ground. When the door swung open, her   
head jerked upwards and she saw her usually emotionless professor with her eyes considerably reddened and obviously crying.   
"I'm sorry to bother you... Are you all right?– I mean, I was just... Maybe I should come back another time..." She spoke   
very fast. 

Minerva swallowed back another sob that rose to her throat, then said in as steady of a voice as she could manage, "No, of   
course not, Miss Granger. Do come in." She gestured to the two mismatched armchairs sitting invitingly by the fire.   
"Have a seat," she offered, going to fill two mugs with hot chocolate. Hermione perched nervously on the edge of the   
brown armchair, gratefully taking the cup of hot chocolate when it was offered to her. For a few moments, the two women   
sat without speaking, staring at the flames and each waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Hermione broke the   
silence. 

"I'm sorry to bother you, professor, but I couldn't sleep. It seems kind of trivial now..." 

"Miss Granger, you are never a bother and you may come to me anytime you need anything." She always tried so hard not to   
show favoritism, but she couldn't keep from caring about the girl who was so like herself at a younger age. "I would give   
you a sleeping potion, but as you know they only work temporarily. Is insomnia a recurring problem for you?" She strongly   
suspected she knew the answer already. 

"Yes," Hermione answered, averting her eyes to the flickering flames. "Ever since my mother died." She spoke so softly at   
the end that Minerva barely heard her. But the tears running down her face told the story by themselves and Minerva knew   
that this, not insomnia, was the real reason she had knocked on the door. Suddenly, Hermione started speaking so quickly   
McGonagall had to listen carefully to grasp her words. 

"No one understands, not a single person, they all think I'm some kind of monster now. They never see me as anything more   
than a dictionary anyway and even Ron and Harry haven't talked to me in days. Hagrid has a new pet and he's so happy and I   
don't want to hurt him and my father won't let me come home because I look like her and he threw away all her pictures. I   
can't talk to anyone because they don't understand me and I hate it!" She was sobbing by this time. Minerva slipped a   
comforting arm around the girl's shoulders. Many things were running through her own mind at the moment– what to say,   
what to do? Finally, she just let Hermione sob into her shoulder as she had that day in the Owlery and looked out at the   
vast blackness of the night sky, searching for answers that were not there. 

*************** 

That stank. I know it did. *sniffle* I've got writer's block! But please review anyway-- it's really appreciated. Thanks! 


	12. Awakening: Love's First Kiss

*Author's Note/Disclaimer* 

'Tis not mine. I lay down no claims, so if you trip over something it's not my fault! : ) Sorry I haven't written in so   
long, and I know this chapter is short/poorly written/fluffy/just plain stupid, but I finally unglued my fingers from the   
piano keys and transferred them to the comp keys instead. Next chapter is in the works currently, I promise. Anywho,   
bon apatite, and please review! 

**************** 

The sun had already made its journey across the sky and was sinking slowly beneath the horizon when Minerva McGonagall   
finally awoke with a smile on her lips. She had been having such a lovely dream. Though she couldn't remember the   
slightest detail about it, the mere knowledge that she had finally been asleep and dreaming left her with a warm,   
pleasant, comfortable feeling. 

For a moment, she lay there with her lips curved in a smile, legs tangled in the covers and sunlight dancing over her   
bare toes. There was a short time where the world seemed perfect, with no Voldemort or brutal murders or parentless   
children. She breathed in, then out, basking in the peaceful fantasy and free from the weight of guilt. Then slowly,   
with the grace of her feline Animangus, she stretched and slid her feet onto the floorboards, which had been warmed by   
the setting sun. 

Crossing the room to the window, she gazed out with a smile never seen on the face of the stern Professor McGonagall.   
Students were strolling slowly across the lawn, laden with bags of sweets and pranks from a Hogsmeade weekend that had   
not been cancelled, much to their delight. She stood watching them for several minutes until they had all drifted   
through the doors of the castle and dusk had tiptoed into Hogwarts. With a drowsy yawn, she left the room. 

She wandered towards Albus's office, her usual brisk stride temporarily discarded. How beautiful the evening is when   
one is actually awake enough to enjoy it! she thought, trailing her fingertips across a windowsill and feeling the light   
breeze caress her face. She felt that her soul was soaring, freed from the burdensome worries of the night before.   
Knocking lightly on the thick wooden door of the Headmaster's office, she admitted herself into the room and searched   
for Albus. 

She found him sitting in his desk chair, sorting papers and listening to a recording of Pachabel's Canon. He heard her   
enter the room and glanced up, his clear blue eyes meeting her own. 

"Ah, so Sleeping Beauty has awoken," he teased. Minerva rolled her eyes, but returned his grin with a smile of her   
own. "Rested now?" he asked, more seriously. 

"Quite. It's a bit frightening, really; I actually feel optimistic about tomorrow!" 

Absorbing her smile like a plant soaking up the sunshine, Albus glanced down at his papers. "Beastly things... Maybe   
they could wait until the optimistic tomorrow, should you agree to a short walk around the lake with me?" he asked,   
trying very hard not to sound too desperate, but not wanting to act the hesitant fool he had been last night. 

"I would be delighted." She was a little surprised and felt her heart jump to her throat at the pleasant thought.   
Inside, she was dancing. 

******* 

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she was met by a scene of complete chaos. For a moment, the world tumbled before her   
eyes, somersaulting and twisting into a jumble of colors. Rhiannon blinked furiously and the blurry images cleared. 

She was in a hospital wing— in Hogwarts, from the feel of things. She took in a deep breath, noticing the thick energy   
of magic caressing her lungs, and exhaled. Yes, she was most certainly in Hogwarts. But how had she gotten here? She   
didn't remember either riding the train or walking back, and she didn't remember the night sky or the dewy grass. The   
only thoughts she had were of the horrifying death and destruction of her hometown, and these wrapped her mind in an   
impenetrable shroud. 

She shuddered. No more of that, not now. Wincing at the stiffness of her sore limbs, she swung her blistered feet out   
of bed and stood. Gingerly testing her knees and ankles, she began wandering, trying to locate Madame Pomfrey. She   
needed her room— needed the safe solitude and the stillness, the time to watch the dust float through the shaft of   
sunlight streaming through the window. The hospital was cold and bare to her, its impersonal air chafing her soul.   
Suddenly, she ran head-first into the bustling Mediwitch. 

"What are you doing up?" the well-meaning woman cried. She attempted to shoo Rhiannon back into bed, despite her ward's   
complaints, and said, as she tucked the covers firmly around a protesting Sinistra, "I'll just run upstairs and tell the   
headmaster you're back..." 

"No!" interrupted Rhiannon. "I'm fine, really, I'm fine, nothing hurts and I just want to go to my room and lie down for a   
while..." After much coaxing and wheedling, Madame Pomfrey reluctantly allowed her patient to leave on the grounds   
that she would not have classes the next day. Rhiannon agreed quickly— she doubted she could face Malfoy without blasting   
his socks off of his slimy, good-for-nothing feet. 

She found her duffel bag and the small unopened brown box her father had hidden long ago under a few inches of soil in   
Mrs. Billey's flower garden— for safekeeping, he said— and toted them carefully up the many flights of stairs to her   
tower. She dropped the parcels, collapsed on her bed, and began to sob. 

******** 

"Minerva, I need to tell you something and this time I will not 'chicken out.'" They were standing on the edge of the lake   
near the Forbidden Forest, gazing over the placid waters painted red by the setting sun. Gently, Albus slipped his hands   
into Minerva's and their eyes locked. 

"I think I'm in love with you." 

Her chin tipped upwards slightly and before either of them realized what was happening they shared their first sweet kiss.   
When he realized Minerva was kissing him back, his hands gently cradled her face and his kisses trailed down her jawbone,   
making her shiver slightly and relax further into his tender embrace. His lips brushed her neck and she let out a little   
sigh as... 

"Damn the Portals, blast them all!" 

The romantic moment was shattered and Minerva gasped, red-faced, as Aithne and Terrel emerged from the Portal. Aithne,   
however, didn't even seem to realize what she had interrupted and she barreled on, breathless. 

"Bad news, Voldemort has a spy in the Ministry." 

"What?" cried Albus, his hands still around Minerva's waist. 

"Yeah, it's horrible, Bev nearly flipped and everyone is being called in on emergency summons with penalty of death if you   
don't show. Only a Ministry official would have been able to time the attack like they did and apparently Bev found some   
more incriminating evidence. I'd hurry." With a flash, she disappeared through the Portal. Terrel solemnly grabbed   
their hands and pulled them into the whirling, spinning, whizzing world. 

************** 

So, whaddya think? If you don't like it, I can re-write, but I need some feedback to know! Thanks. ~insaneflautist 


	13. The Dawning of Realization

Disclaimer:   
This does not belong to me. 

*************************************************** 

Minerva landed squarely on her feet, but she had no time to gloat as Terrel yanked firmly on her wrist. They were in   
the building in which the M.O.U.S.E. exams had been administered, but the majesty and beauty of the architecture was   
slightly diminished because of the throngs of people milling about. Apologizing to the faceless bodies she knocked   
into, she threaded her way through the masses, clinging tightly to Terrel's pudding-like fingers with one hand and   
to Albus's gentle palm with the other. 

"Ouch!" Minerva said sharply as Terrel attempted to tug her through an impossibly tight barricade of human bodies,   
nearly dislocating her shoulder. 

"Sorry," he called over his shoulder. "Just trying to keep up with Aithne." 

Minerva planned to make a witty remark but was cut off by another sharp tug on her wrist. She glanced back at Albus,   
rolled her eyes with a slight smile, and followed Terrel's billowing blue robes. Finally, the crowds began to thin as   
they traveled down a narrow, darkened corridor. Cobwebs thickened as the hallway led the trio into the inner sanctum,   
making the hallway appear long deserted. Minerva shivered. 

"It looks like something out of a Muggle horror movie," Albus joked. Minerva smiled distractedly and Terrel looked   
quizzical, but they continued clawing their way through the spider webs. 

Suddenly, Albus whirled to peer behind them and exclaimed, "Look!" 

The cobwebs, which had been torn into shredded strips, now hung as full and thick as ever. 

"Defensive mechanism," Terrel explained brusquely. He strode off, realized Minerva and Albus were still examining   
the cobwebs, paced back to them, and siezed Minerva's wrist. "Come on!" 

*********** 

Rhiannon sniffled, blew her nose on a handkerchief, and pried the lid off the box. A shower of garden dirt fell onto   
her bed, but she merely brushed it aside and picked up a thick packet of papers. Most were legal documents, but after   
those came a set of love letters from her father to her mother and from her mother to her father. She read a few   
paragraphs here and there, feeling a bit like a Peeping Tom, then laid the papers aside to look through later. Some   
poetry came next, penned in her father's hand, and she read the poems with appreciation, placing each brittle page   
carefully in a pile near her pillow. When she had finished with the poems, she searched the bottom of the box once   
more. What she found changed her life— her past, her present, and her future. 

The book was labeled simply "Journal." It was leather, bound with a string, and stained with age. Taking a deep   
breath, she unknotted the string and opened the cover. The sight of her father's writing tore at her heart. 

_ Dear Rhiannon,   
If you are reading this journal, then the worst has probably happened   
and your ever-loving Papa is dead. I tried my hardest to protect you when you   
were little, but now I hope you have grown old enough to understand the events   
of which I tell. _

It is a long and complicated story. When you were to be born, I was   
much in love with your mother and we both awaited the arrival of the most   
wonderful child we could imagine: you, my darling Rhia. But halfway through   
the pregnancy, there was an attack at our home. I, believe it or not, once had magic   
and was a part of the world you have come to love. Grindelwald was strong and—   
oh, my dear, I fear this story will be much longer than I thought. 

In the days that I had magic, I was a member of a secret society, an order   
that vowed to fight against darkness and evil in the world. It was called The Order   
of the Phoenix. I was one of very few Scottish wizards, another of whom was   
your mama. We met, fell in love, and married because of the Order. However,   
dark wizards do not take kindly to being pursued and killed and one night the   
remaining followers of Grindelwald, a dark wizard killed by a member of the Order,   
attacked the home of your mama and myself. We both escaped unscathed, but I   
knew since your mama was expecting you at the time, it might be best to visit   
a Seer and make sure you were unharmed as well. 

When we went to the Seer— Cassandra Trelawney, she was-- she told us   
with much joy that you would grow up unharmed from the incident. However,   
she also told us that you had no magical blood flowing through your veins. 

The next is the part you must understand, my most beautiful daughter.   
Your mama and I did not care if you had the magical blood or not, for we already   
loved you so much that something as simple as magical powers would not have   
made a difference in our love. Nevertheless, the stars and the Seer also foretold   
of dark, hard days to come and I knew that without magical powers you could   
not fight against the darkness that might someday threaten your life. 

The last thing in the world I ever want to come to you is harm, so your   
mama and I began developing potions and powders: anything and everything that   
might enable you to be born with wizarding blood flowing through your body. We   
had almost given up hope when I made a final potion. I discovered with delight that   
by giving you the brew you might have the powers, though I realized it would cost   
me my own magic. But I was aging in years and you were yet unborn, with a full   
life ahead of you, so I willingly made the transfer. 

My dear child, I did not realize when I was speaking with the Seer that   
this transfer might have been a horrible mistake. The Seer said something I did   
not understand until the first ransack of Aberfeldy came, when you were only a   
toddler. The potion was valuable— not only could a child without magic be given   
powers, but a wizard could take the powers of others and make himself   
stronger if he were willing to kill other magical folk. Your blood contains that   
potion to the very day you read this, and it will cause you to forever be sought   
and for attempts on your life to be made in order to obtain your precious blood.   
Not only that, but the ingredients for this potion are in this journal. I dare not   
destroy them because of their possibility for good, but the possibility for evil also   
frightens me. 

Maybe by the time you have grown up the evil will have been   
eradicated from this world, but until then I leave you only with this cursed life.   
I am sorry, my child, for you must believe that I never intended for harm to come   
to you when I administered this concoction. I merely wanted you to have the   
chance for a richer, fuller life than a non-magical one could have provided. 

A Secret-Keeping charm was placed upon you and I made the Secret   
Keeper the only person in the world I trusted after your mama died— myself.   
Now that I am dead, as I most surely must be if you have unearthed this box,   
I must tell you to fear for your life. Protect yourself, my daughter, and trust   
no one. I love you, my dearest Rhiannon, with all my heart. 

Your eternally loving   
Papa Rhiannon's tear-filled eyes widened. She opened her hand and stared at her pale wrist where the blood pulsed a   
bright blue beneath the skin. She stroked the delicate vein with one finger, shuddered, and flipped to the next page   
in the journal. The potion recipe was scribbled there, but the rest of the book was blank. "Blank," she whispered   
to the silent tower, "for the rest of my life to be written upon." She frowned, then got off the bed and hid the box   
where Draco Malfoy could never find it, even if he looked for days. 

"Everything fits," she whispered, looking out the window at the grounds below. The evening sunset cast brilliant   
light on the skeletal trees, though their underbellies were hidden by dark shadows. "Here is the darkness--" she   
extended one hand, coursed by dark blue veins– "and here is the light." She held out her other hand and the pale   
skin shone snow white in the evening sunset. "Draco Malfoy's father is a Death Eater. Voldemort somehow knows   
about the potion and the powers it might bring him. Draco stole my diary for his father, thinking it might have   
the potion in it. Aberfeldy was burned because of me." She glanced across the room and caught her own eye in the   
mirror that hung on the wall. "I'm the gray. It's my fault. It's me." 

***** 

Minerva sat at a long wooden table, her hand entwined with Albus's underneath the broad oak slab. Beverly, who turned   
out to be a stately, aging woman with dark, fierce eyes, frowned at the cluster of people gathered there. There were   
about twenty, Minerva guessed, or maybe twenty-five. 

"Before we begin," Beverly said in a strong ringing voice, "you will all be expected to drink Veritaserum. No   
exceptions," she added. She withdrew a rather large flask of clear liquid from her pocket and began placing the   
contents of the bottle into many identical glasses arranged on a tray. When she had finished filling the tiny   
glasses, she spun the tray and it began to revolve quickly, glasses clinking slightly as they wobbled against the   
silver surface. Everyone stared, transfixed by the rainbows of light thrown around the room by the spinning crystal.   
When the tray finally slowed to a halt, Beverly flicked her wand and the glasses sailed into the hands of the   
Unspeakables. "Drink," she commanded. 

"Wait," said Minerva before she realized exactly who she was defying. "How do we know these drinks aren't   
poisoned, or drugged to force us to reveal what we know? If we follow blindly anyone who gives us an order, we may   
all play into the hands of evil." She stopped abruptly and blushed crimson. Every pair of eyes was on her. 

For a moment, Beverly stared at her and Minerva was sure she had just committed a vile crime by questioning this   
woman's authority. Then, Beverly broke into a smile. "Very good," she said proudly. The rest of the old members   
began to applaud, first slowly and then with vigor. 

"Good show!" called one elderly wizard. "Nicely done," murmured another. A pink-cheeked witch across from her   
grinned broadly and nodded her head. 

"I don't understand," said Minerva despairingly. 

"That was a test," said Beverly. "One important thing about the Unspeakables is that you must always be on your   
toes, ready to go. I congratulate you, newest member, for being alert. Now, since Veritaserum cannot be altered   
by spells, I invite you all to perform any diagnostic tests you feel necessary." Beverly watched like a hawk as   
everyone tested their Veritaserum. "Tested to your satisfaction?" she queried when everyone's eyes turned again to   
her. At their nods, she continued. "Then drink." 

Minerva tipped the cup to her lips and drained its contents, acknowledging the sense of drifting as it came over her. 

"Now for some extensive questioning," said Beverly, not looking at all excited. "Have you ever thought or even briefly   
considered joining Dark Forces..." 

***** 

Minerva and Albus staggered into Hogwarts, tired and yawning at three in the morning. "Meetings should be banned,"   
Minerva groused. "Ditto," replied Albus, stifling a yawn. He caught Minerva's eye and her heart thumped an extra   
beat. "Good night," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips. "Good night," she said quietly. With a smile, she   
turned and headed toward her quarters. She looked backwards, saw that he had left, and gave a great skip and a girlish   
squeal. She swept off to her quarters with a huge smile on her face, leaving a very disturbed Severus Snape in her wake. 

******************** Author's Note=   
Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I love you guys! And I might mention a special thanks to im so innocent for   
saying nice things about me in the author's note of her latest chapter update. : ) Thank you all! By the way, I'm   
always interested in new fanfiction ideas, so if anyone wants to drop me a nibble of new story ideas... ; ) 


	14. Merry Christmas, Hermione Granger

**Author's Note**

Yup, unfortunately for you guys I'm still alive. I just haven't had time or energy (or ideas) to write. This   
chapter is kind of crappy because I've forgotten several things about my own story (how embarrassing!!!) and because   
I am a bit out of practice. Plus, I'm listening to pop music (UGH!) while writing this. Please no flames unless   
you give CONSTRUCTIVE criticism along with them! Thanks. 

**Disclaimer**

I'm getting, like, really tired of saying this. J. K. Rowling, who owns, like, everything, like, owns this too.   
Like, duh! : ) 

Minerva had been exceptionally quiet at breakfast, toying with her rice porridge and feeling numb. She had been   
deadened of almost all emotion since the raid on Aberfeldy, her mind struggling to forget the unnatural placidity   
of the little girl, the blood of the frightened survivors, and the cold blank stares of the victims' corpses.   
Remembering their sightless eyes, she turned away from the porridge, letting the spoon clank into the bowl. The   
only happiness of the past week—and it uncomfortably tinged with guilt—had been when Albus's lips had brushed   
against her own. Suddenly, she felt a hand tugging at her arm. 

"Minerva?" said Albus, peering into her eyes with some alarm. He had apparently been trying to catch her attention   
for several minutes. Her face reddened as she watched his lips form her name and remembered their tender kiss. 

"Sorry, what?" she stammered, blushing. 

"I asked whether there was anything special I needed to know for your classes today." 

"Oh, will you be sitting in?" queried Minerva, groping for a memory of their conversation earlier that morning   
before breakfast. 

"I'm teaching it." 

"Oh." 

"Because you are helping Filius with Christmas decorations. Remember?" 

"Yes," she lied unconvincingly. He smiled and clasped her hand in his own for a second before releasing it and   
standing to address the students. 

Her eyes itched with a fresh wave of unshed tears. He seemed kind, but could she dare to trust him with her whole   
heart? She watched his weary face, creased by his tired smile as he made the usual morning announcements. Taking   
a deep breath, she cleared her mind and attempted to pay more attention to the words he was saying. "...good day,"   
finished Albus. 

She hadn't heard a single thing. "Damn." 

"Beavers," called Albus with a tired grin as he traipsed off in the general direction of her classroom. 

Hooch, who smiled. "Ready to begin, Minerva?" he asked with a cheerful expression. 

She managed a halfhearted smile. Christmas was such a lonely holiday. "What's the theme this year?" she asked in   
a vain attempt to be merry. 

"Poinsettias, as always, and possibly some gold ribbon. I thought maybe we could put large floating bouquets   
over each table?" 

"Yes, Filius, very good idea." She withdrew her wand and began helping Flitwick charm the flowers, a tedious   
task indeed for the Transfiguration-minded witch. With a sudden flash of inspiration, she transfigured a few   
lurking gargoyles into triumphant Christmas angels. Filius exclaimed his approval, and so Minerva gratefully   
accepted the duty of transfiguring instead of charming. 

Minerva became so absorbed in her duties that she didn't even notice when Filius went to check on his class's   
progress and did not return. She didn't hear the sound of muffled voices and thundering feet as the morning   
remedial classes released and the midday classes resumed. There were only a few catch-up or remedial classes   
held during Christmas break, but the students who needed them tended to be as noisy alone as the entire student   
body. In fact, Minerva worked mechanically without a thought to the time until the doors of the Great Hall opened   
and hungry students thundered in, just in time for the noon meal. Their admiring gasps and exclamations resulted   
in the blossoming of a halfhearted smile on Minerva's peaked face. 

Then she saw Hermione Granger in the crowd and her smile dissolved. Very few non-remedial students had stayed at   
Hogwarts of their own free will, but Miss Granger had signed her forms the day after her mother's death. With   
a thick satchel of extracurricular reading slung over her slim, tense shoulders, the girl looked small and frail   
beneath her bushy hair. Apparently, Minerva wasn't the only one feeling lonely this Christmas. With a sobered   
face, Minerva took her seat at the Head Table. 

"Beautiful, Minerva, simply glorious!" Albus's face was radiant with good cheer. "Even your catch-up students   
are splendid, my dear," he said with glee as he smeared butter on his bread. "Even young Neville Longbottom   
answered a question rather well this morning, I thought. You're an exceptional teacher, love." 

"Albus, may I be excused to go to Hogsmeade this afternoon?" asked Minerva abruptly. 

"I..." 

"I can wait until after classes." 

"That's not..." 

"It's really quite important!" 

"Minerva! You may go. As I announced this morning at breakfast—or did you hear?—" he teased "— the board has   
approved a half-holiday for remedial classes so the students may have some time outdoors and still be safely in the   
castle before dark." 

"Why?" asked Minerva, finally listening. 

"There have been rumors," Albus said, the twinkle in his eyes extinguished. 

"Voldemort?" gasped McGonagall. 

"Yes." Albus was solemn. 

Minerva laid her sandwich back on her plate. "Why aren't we meeting?" she asked, a slight emphasis on the word   
"we" indicating that she meant the Unspeakables. 

"I think," said Albus, his eyes faraway and thoughtful, "there must be shifts. It only makes sense, you   
know—security measures. It would be too risky to have all the Un—all the members," he hastily corrected, "under   
one roof at once. He glanced around, making sure no one had overheard. "Death Eaters won't be able to determine   
who's doing what when where." He bit into his own sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. "That explains the last   
minute notices, too." 

Minerva nodded, feeling sheepish. "Of course." 

"About Hogsmeade," Albus said. "For safety, would you mind an escort?" Minerva bristled. Quickly, he   
continued, "I know you don't want to be watched over like a first-year, but I don't want anything to happen to   
you. Ever." For the second time that day, his fingers caressed hers. "I care," he said simply. She smiled.   
"All right." 

Upon leaving the school grounds, the strict tempo of Minerva's steps relaxed slightly and her stern posture   
surrendered some of its rigidity. Albus walked alongside her in comfortable silence. The only hint that they   
were not merely a couple out for an afternoon stroll was that Minerva's hand firmly grasped the hilt of her wand   
and Albus's hand gently tightened over Minerva's elbow whenever a stranger passed them on the street. 

Soon, the brown gravel-and-dirt road gave way to cobblestones and the cosy, low-lying town of Hogsmeade spread   
before them. "What are you looking for?" asked Albus as Minerva surveyed the shops. 

"A Christmas present for Hermione Granger—something to drag her out of the library," replied Minerva. 

"Why, Professor McGonagall, don't tell me you've finally gone soft," he teased gently. In a more serious tone,   
he added, "I'm pleased with your new friendship with Hermione. It's done both of you some good. 

Minerva shot him a look. 

"Well, it has!" he exclaimed defensively. "That child is the only person who can get you to stop working and   
listen. You're very much alike, you know. Workaholics, through and through. Take some time off, Minerva—time   
to smell the roses before it's too late." 

He halted abruptly, noticing the tight set of her jaw. 

"I'm sorry, Minerva. I'm treating you like a child." She said nothing, though he could tell by her eyes she was   
hurt. "Listen to me, my dearest," he said quietly. "You are a beautiful, intelligent, wonderful woman and what   
pains me most is that you don't take time to realize and enjoy it. You've worked so hard in the past few weeks.   
Spend time with Hermione this Christmas. She's had reason to learn her lesson." He saw that she had listened,   
smiled, and changed the subject. 

"What are you thinking of getting for Hermione?" he asked. 

"I've thought of getting Miss Granger a new journal. She mentioned once that she kept one when she was smaller."   
Albus wrinkled his nose. "Well, Sir Dumbledore, have you a better suggestion?" 

"Sherbert lemon sugar quills?" he suggested, eyeing Honeyduke's window display hungrily. Minerva wrinkled her own   
nose in mockery of him and flounced into the nearest store. 

Albus was standing in the snow and watching the window display at a magical bookshop while Minerva browsed inside.   
A scene from A Midsummer Night's Dream had been recreated in miniature, with fairies charmed to look less menacing   
than usual frolicking along an enchanted brook. Albus was studying the charms used to create the forest scene when   
he had an idea. 

"Minerva!" he called loudly as he barreled inside the shop. A dozen irate customers instantly turned in unison,   
placed fingers to their lips, and hissed, "Shhhh!" 

"Oh, sorry," Albus whispered, duly chastised. Much more quietly, he looked for Minerva. He put the book in her   
hand back onto the shelf and dragged her into the snowy street. 

"What are you..." 

"I've got the perfect idea, Minerva—something to remove Miss Granger from her beloved library! We'll only need   
a couple of new charms. Come on." 

Minerva stepped back and gasped delightedly. The glade had been transformed from a snowy wilderness into a lush   
green paradise. Albus had found the charms and done some of the major work, while Minerva followed behind him,   
coating the ground in thick moss, coaxing creepers to twine around the huge tree that stood majestically in the   
center of the clearing, and adding other delicate touches. Outside the shelter of the tree's sweeping branches,   
snow fell and everything was brown and dead. Thanks to one of Albus's brilliant charms, however, the thicket   
would remain comfortable and sunny all winter long, as well as being as safe as the castle itself. Minerva had   
planned the limbs of the tree so that they curved gently into a pleasant seat of living boughs. A brook sang   
softly from one corner. It was heaven on earth. 

"It's beautiful," said Minerva quietly, not wanting to break the gentle reverence of the silence. 

"It's morning," said Albus. "Christmas morning." They had worked almost all night. "Go find Hermione and give   
the girl her Christmas present." 

"You worked hard on it—I couldn't have done this alone! Don't you want to come, too?" Minerva queried, looking   
surprised. 

"No," said Albus with a smile. "You go alone. It will mean more coming from you." 

"Thank you," Minerva said, stepping closer and tentatively putting her arms around him. He gathered her closer,   
pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her for a moment before releasing her. "Go find Hermione." 

Minerva discovered Hermione pale-faced and alone in the Gryffindor common room. Loud shouts from upstairs told   
her the other children were eagerly unwrapping piles of presents. Hermione sat hunched in a chair, her chin   
resting on her knees and her eyes staring forlornly into the crackling fire. Two tiny boxes carelessly wrapped   
in green paper rested near her feet. 

"Come with me," said Minerva, an excited smile trying to escape her lips. Hermione looked up curiously. "Well,   
come on!" Minerva held out one hand. Hermione stared at the outstretched palm for a moment, then hesitantly   
slipped her fingers into McGonagall's. Walking briskly to keep up with Minerva's ground-eating strides, Hermione   
allowed herself to be led through the halls, out the front doors, and onto the snow-laden grounds. Her fuzzy   
house-slippers flopped through the sloppy snow and she shivered slightly as the barren trees of the Forbidden   
Forest cast slender shadows over her shoulders. She could feel a barricade of protective safety charms spanning   
the trees around their path. "Where are we going?" she asked Minerva, a slight spark of curiosity lighting her   
formerly lifeless eyes. 

"It's a surprise," said Minerva, looking younger and happier than Hermione had ever seen her. They walked for a   
few more minutes, then stopped. Minerva spun around backwards and placed her hands over Hermione's eyes in very   
un-McGonagall-like behavior. "No peeking," she warned. They staggered a few steps closer and Hermione felt   
tree leaves brush her cheek. 

Minerva removed her hands. "Okay," she said, and Hermione opened her eyes and gasped. Unbelieving, she sank to   
her knees in the soft summer grass. "Merry Christmas," said Minerva softly. 

"This is the most beautiful thing... It's lovely..." Unable to say anything else, she stood and flung her arms   
around Minerva's neck. "Thank you," she said, a tear winding its way down her face and onto McGonagall's emerald   
robes. 

"Merry Christmas, Hermione." 

Fudge nodded at the man robed in a black hooded cloak. "Tonight. It will be tonight." The man smiled coldly and   
nodded, too. "Tonight." 


End file.
